THE  MINISTER  OF  POLICE 


Monsieur — a  moment,   there   is   some  one  at  the   door 


THE 
MINISTER  OF  POLICE 


By 

HENRY  MOUNTJOY 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

HANSON  BOOTH 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1912 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS    OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTER! 

BROOKLYN,     N.    V. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I  THE  FIFTEENTH  Louis 1 

II  THE  COMPLAINT  OF  LAVENNE        ....  14 

III  A  LADY  OF  OTHER  DAYS 26 

IV  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  PASSION        ....  38 

V  "REGARDLESS  OF  ALL  THINGS"        ....  57 

VI  THE  BUREAU  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     ....  72 

VII  WHILE  MAHON  MOUNTS  GUARD    ....  85 
VIII    DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER    ....  96 

IX    THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK         ....  106 

X    A  MAN  WITH  FOUR  IDEAS 126 

XI     PARIS  FALLS  ON  MADAME 147 

XII    MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY    ....  156 

PART  II 

I    THE  MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE          ....  167 

II    THE  PERFIDY  OF  PLACIDE 188 

III  ROSINE  TELLS  TALES 200 

IV  THE  GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU        .        .        .  203 
V    DE  SARTINES  BECOMES  HOST          ....  240 

VI    THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN      .        .        .256 

VII    THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  BASTILE 278 

VIII    THE  PORTE  ST.  BERNARD 301 

IX    LUCK  AND  DE  LUSSAC 313 

X    ROUSSEAU'S  DREAM 318 

PART  III 

I    THE  CAMPAIGN  OF  MADAME 331 

II  MADAME  Du  BARRY 340 

III  A  PIE  AND  A  SURPRISE 355 

IV  A  BOTTLE  AND  A  BRIDE  .         .         .         .         .         .  366 

V    HATS  AND  COMPLIMENTS 381 

VI  COMEDY  OR  TRAGEDY? 396 

VII  THE  GENIUS  OF  PLACIDE 401 

VIII  THE  END  OF  THE  PLAY  404 


PA.RT   I 


THE  MINISTER  OF 
POLICE 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   FIFTEENTH   LOUIS 

ONE  evening  in  May,  just  at  that  chill  hour 
when  the  trees  are  draping  themselves  in  the 
muslin  of  the  evening  mist,  the  carriage  of  Monsieur 
de  Sartines  passed  the  Swiss  on  guard  at  the  gates 
of  his  majesty's  palace  of  Versailles  and  entered  the 
courtyard. 

Then,  as  now,  this  courtyard,  vast,  paved  with 
cobblestones  big  as  one's  fist,  looked  on  by  rows  and 
rows  of  windows;  chill,  almost  repellent,  gave  one 
the  impression  of  a  back  premises,  without  any  de- 
traction from  that  other  impression  of  magnificence 
which  the  genius  of  Mansard  mixed  in  the  plans, 
the  bricks  and  the  very  mortar  of  his  work. 

The  carriage  of  the  minister  of  police,  having 
crossed  the  courtyard  where  other  carriages  were 
standing  in  waiting,  stopped  at  the  main  entrance  of 
the  palace,  and  Monsieur  de  Sartines  descended, 

i 


2  THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

A  lackey  in  the  royal  livery  came  down  the  steps 
and  stood  as  the  vehicle  drew  up,  and  already  the 
man  at  the  swing  doors  had  passed  the  words  across 
his  shoulder  to  the  usher  at  his  desk,  "The  carriage 
of  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

The  carriages  of  the  notabilities  of  France,  of 
Monsieur  de  Coigny,  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  the  Due 
de  Choiseul  and  a  host  of  others  were  known  indi- 
vidually and  almost  by  the  sound  of  their  wheels  to 
the  doorkeepers  of  Versailles,  and  none  better  than 
that  of  the  minister  of  police,  who  was  now  ascend- 
ing the  steps  walking  heavily — a  magnificent  figure 
of  a  man  in  a  coat  of  brocaded  silk,  with  ruffles  of 
the  finest  Mechlin  lace,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  cloud- 
ed cane,  and  at  his  side  that  dress  sword,  an  heir- 
loom of  the  family  of  the  Comtes  de  Sartines,  inher- 
ited from  the  illustrious  Marechal  d'Ancre. 

The  glass  doors  opening  before  him,  as  though 
pushed  aside  by  his  reflection  on  their  polished  sur- 
faces, Monsieur  de  Sartines  passed  into  the  warm 
and  flower-scented  vestibule  where  the  lamps  had 
just  been  lighted,  and  where  Jaquin,  the  usher  on 
duty,  advanced  to  receive  the  hat  and  cane  of  the 
minister. 

From  beyond  the  Stairway  of  the  Ambassadors, 
somewhere  in  the  distance,  faint,  like  the  diffused 


THE    FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  3 

murmur  of  bees,  came  the  sound  of  voices,  a  multi- 
tude of  voices  subdued  and  low-pitched,  a  nimbus 
of  sound  from  the  Hall  of  Mirrors,  where  the  cour- 
tiers in  attendance  were  assembled,  chatting,  criti- 
cizing the  life  of  the  day,  drawn  together  by  no 
special  occasion,  or  reason,  save  that  which  makes 
insects  huddle  toward  light  and  warmth. 

There  was  no  necessity  for  Monsieur  de  Sartines 
to  inquire  whether  the  king  were  present  in  his  pal- 
ace; the  voices  from  the  Hall  of  Mirrors  told  him. 

He  was  advancing  up  the  great  staircase  when 
from  the  corridor  above,  descending,  Monsieur  le 
Marechal  Due  de  Richelieu  made  his  appearance, 
coming  rapidly,  seeming  elated  and  well  pleased 
with  himself,  and  followed  by  a  lackey  of  the  pal- 
ace bearing  a  despatch-box. 

A  marvelous  figure  was  the  Due  de  Richelieu, 
quite  youthful  still,  despite  his  seventy- four  years, 
small  in  stature,  yet  somehow  great,  a  man  with  the 
past  of  a  conqueror  and  the  present  appearance — at 
a  distance — of  a  youthful  fop. 

At  this  moment  the  hero  of  Mahon  was  at  the 
zenith  of  his  worldly  hopes,  for  the  De  Choiseul 
ministry,  destined  to  fall  on  the  following  Christmas 
eve,  was  crumbling,  and  the  De  Richelieu  ministry — • 
never  to  materialize — was  in  the  air. 


4  THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Ah,  De  Sartines,"  said  the  due,  pausing  in  his 
passage  toward  the  door,  and  laying  a  finger  on  the 
brocaded  arm  of  the  new-comer,  "you  have  come  to 
pay  your  respects  to  his  majesty.  You  will  find  him 
very  well.  I.  have  just  left  him,  and  he  is  expecting 
you." 

"Expecting  me,  Monsieur?"  replied  De  Sartines. 
"Then  his  majesty  must  have  been  suddenly  gifted 
with  the  power  of  second  sight." 

"Ma  foi,  who  can  tell?  I  only  know  he  said  to 
me,  'I  feel  in  such  good  spirits  something  surely  is 
going  to  happen ;  either  some  pamphleteer  is  printing 
a  new  pamphlet  against  me,  or  Monsieur  de  Sartines 
is  coming  to  bore  me  with  a  portfolio.' ' 

De  Sartines  bowed  gravely.  "Happily  for  you, 
Monsieur,  his  majesty  said  to  me  at  our  last  meet- 
ing, 'Whatever  happens,  I  shall  never  bore  Monsieur 
de  Richelieu  in  that  way.' ' 

De  Richelieu,  almost  assured,  and  already  feeling 
the  portfolio  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul  under  his  arm, 
laughed  and  passed  on,  while  De  Sartines  took  a 
step  upward,  only  to  be  stopped  again,  this  time  by 
a  figure  just  emerging  from  the  corridor. 

It  was  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  a  young  gentleman 
who  had  squandered  a  fortune  and  was  now  squan- 
dering the  fortune  of  his  wife,  a  woman  of  fifty- 


THE    FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  5 

eight  whom  he  had  married — openly  confessing  the 
fact — for  her  money. 

He  was  bearing  a  small  bunch  of  violets.  "Why, 
it  is  Monsieur  de  Sartines !"  said  De  Joyeuse.  "How 
opportune !  You  have  come  just  in  time  to  save  the 
remains  of  your  reputation,  which  they  are  killing 
in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors." 

"Ah,  Monsieur,"  replied  De  Sartines,  "you  are 
happier  in  that  respect  than  I  am." 

"And  how?" 

"You  have  left  nothing  for  them  to  kill." 

He  bowed,  passed  on,  and  a  moment  later  found 
himself  in  the  throng  crowding  the  great  salon. 

The  lamps  were  lighted,  but  through  the  long  win- 
dows, as  yet  uncurtained,  the  park,  the  lakes  and  the 
fountains  of  Versailles  showed,  a  dim  and  poetic 
picture  in  the  chiaroscuro  of  evening. 

The  courtiers  were  formed  in  little  groups  chat- 
ting together,  laughing  and  discussing  trifles  as 
though  they  had  been  matters  of  state,  which,  in- 
deed, in  that  epoch  they  often  were.  Near  the  door- 
way by  which  De  Sartines  had  entered,  the  Comte 
d'Harlancourt,  a  tall  man  with  a  severe  and  villain- 
ous-looking face — of  whom  it  was  said  that,  at  his 
instigation,  his  wife  had  poisoned  her  first  husband 
— had  buttonholed  the  young  Comte  de  Coigny  and 


6  THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

was  holding  him  in  talk,  while  Monsieur  de  Stenlis 
and  another  gentleman  stood  by  listening  and  laugh- 
ing. 

"Ah,  De  Sartines,"  cried  this  nobleman,  releasing 
De  Coignyand  turning  to  the  new-comer,  "what  a 
delightful  surprise  to  find  you  at  Versailles!  And 
how  is  Justice?" 

"Very  well,  indeed,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  min- 
ister, with  a  freezing  smile;  "she  was  even  asking 
after  you  this  morning."  He  passed  on,  still  making 
his  way  through  the  crowd,  speaking  a  word  to  this 
gentleman,  nodding  to  that.  He  had  not  made 
twenty  paces  when  suddenly,  as  if  at  the  touch  of  a 
wand,  silence  fell  on  the  Hall  of  Mirrors,  and  a 
voice  said :  "Monsieur  de  la  Vrilliere." 

It  was  the  king's  voice.  He  had  just  opened  the 
door  of  his  cabinet,  and  De  Sartines  saw  the  Due  de 
la  Vrilliere  pass  in.  He  drew  close  to  the  door  and 
waited.  He  had  not  to  wait  long — in  a  moment  it 
opened  again  and  the  due  appeared.  The  king's 
hand  was  resting  upon  his  arm,  detaining  him  a  mo- 
ment for  a  last  word.  Then  his  majesty  released 
him,  glanced  round  at  the  people,  saw  De  Sartines 
and  made  a  face.  The  minister  of  police  took  the 
grimace  as  an  invitation  to  enter  the  cabinet,  and  did 
so.  The  king  had  been  writing.  On  the  desk  table, 


THE    FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  7 

lighted  by  four  rose-colored  candles  burning  in  sil- 
ver candelabra,  lay  a  mass  of  correspondence.  This 
lazy  monarch,  who  had  cultivated  idleness  as  a  fine 
art,  and  of  whom  it  may  be  said,  at  least,  that  he 
could  do  nothing  well,  had  his  fits  of  activity,  from 
one  of  which  he  seemed  now  convalescing,  for  he 
yawned  as  he  took  his  place  in  the  chair  by  the  desk 
and  motioned  his  visitor  to  a  f  auteuil. 

"Well,  Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  said  the  king,  "and 
how  are  we  this  evening — charmingly,  I  hope?" 

"Charmed,  at  least,  your  Majesty,  to  escape  for  a 
moment  from  the  dullness  of  the  Hotel  de  Sartines 
and  exchange  its  darkness  for  the  sun  of  Versailles." 

"And  is  it  Monsieur  de  Sartines  or  the  minister  of 
police  that  I  see  before  me?" 

"Both,  Sire.  Monsieur  de  Sartines  to  inquire  aft- 
er your  Majesty's  health,  the  minister  of  police  to 
inform  your  Majesty  of  the  health  of  his  people." 

"And  how  are  our  dear  people?"  asked  his  majes- 
ty, casting  some  specks  of  gold  sand  off  a  sheet  of 
note-paper  and  folding  the  sheet. 

"Still  grumbling,  Sire." 

"And  the  pamphleteers  ?" 

"Still  writing,  Sire." 

"And  the  philosophers  ?" 

"Still  philosophizing,  your  Majesty." 


8  THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"And  the  price  of  corn  ? — for  it  always  seems  to 
me  that  the  price  of  corn  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  our 
troubles." 

"Still  rising,  Sire." 

"Good!"  said  the  king.  The  word  escaped  from 
him  almost  without  his  knowing  it.  It  was,  all  the 
same,  meant ;  for  the  king  and  Monsieur  de  Sartines 
had  between  them  an  interest  in  the  price  of  corn — 
they  were,  in  fact,  partners,  in  that  they  had  bought 
up  all  the  available  grain  and  stored  it  in  granaries. 
They  would  presently  sell  at  an  enormous  profit. 
Meanwhile,  the  conspirators,  with  their  eyes  on  the 
market,  maintained  toward  one  another  a  dignified 
silence  on  the  matter,  the  king  quite  content  to  leave 
the  business  details  entirely  in  the  hands  of  his  min- 
ister. 

"Good !"  said  he  again.  "With  the  people  and  the 
markets  in  this  disturbed  state  it  is  a  satisfaction  to 
remember  that  we  have  a  De  Sartines  at  the  ministry 
of  police  to  deal  with  our  philosophers  and  pam- 
phleteers, who  are  always  grumbling  at  the  state  of 
France,  and  our  people,  who  are  always  grumbling 
about  their  food.  Ma  foi,  Monsieur  de  Sartines, 
why  do  you  not  feed  all  these  troublesome  subjects 
of  mine?" 

"With  what,  your  Majesty  ?" 

"With  the  philosophers.     Then  the  pamphleteers 


THE    FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  9 

could  write  pamphlets  on  the  subject,  and  all  would 
be  peace." 

"Oh,  Sire,"  replied  De  Sartines;  "they  would  nev- 
er swallow  Monsieur  Rousseau's  coat,  nor  that  hat, 
which  covers,  no  doubt,  a  multitude  of  things  other 
than  his  thoughts.  He  grows  more  disreputable- 
looking  day  by  day,  as  he  sits  there  at  the  Cafe  de 
Regence,  playing  dominoes  with  his  right  hand  and 
spreading  sedition  with  his  left.  That  old  man, 
Sire,  gives  me  more  troublous  thoughts  than  all  the 
other  sedition-mongers  in  a  bundle.  That  old  man, 
a  young  man  and  a  woman  have  been  in  my  carriage 
with  me  all  the  way  from  Paris  this  evening." 

"Monsieur  Rousseau  in  your  carriage !" 

"I  spoke  metaphorically,  Sire." 

"And  the  young  man  and  woman — were  they  also 
with  you  metaphorically  ?" 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"Who,  then,  is  the  young  man?" 

"The  Chevalier  de  Lussac,  your  Majesty." 

"Ah!  De  Richelieu's  kinsman — and  the  woman?" 

"The  Baroness  Sophie  Linden,  with  whom  the 
chevalier  is  in  love,  Sire,  at  least  so  my  agents  say." 

"The  Austrian  woman  ?" 

"Yes,  your  Majesty,  the  same;  accredited  by  the 
court  of  Vienna,  bearing  a  letter  for  the  dauphiness, 
lingering  on  in  Paris  now  that  her  work  is  over." 


io         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"And  do  you  not  know  why  she  is  lingering  in 
Paris,  Monsieur  de  Sartines  ?" 

"That,  Sire,  is  what  I  am  determined  to  find  out." 

"I  can  tell  you." 

"You  can,  Sire?" 

"Ma  foi,  yes ;  you  yourself  have  just  told  me — she 
is  in  love  with  the  chevalier."  The  king  laughed  as 
though  he  had  made  a  good  joke.  But  De  Sartines 
did  not  laugh. 

"That  is  all  very  well,  Sire.  I  was  not  referring 
to  love — it  does  not  come  within  the  province  of  the 
minister  of  police.  What  does  come  within  his 
province  is  the  fact  that  at  her  house  in  the  Rue  Coq 
Heron  she  receives  dubious  people.  Messengers  call 
there  with  letters ;  De  Lussac,  kinsman  though  he  is 
to  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  is,  I  am  assured,  a  member 
of  that  infernal  Society  of  the  Midi,  and  up  to  his 
eyes  in  the  new  movement  that  threatens  to  subvert 
order  and  destroy  the  state." 

"He  is  a  very  young  man." 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  De  Sartines  earnestly,  "the 
two  most  important  enemies  of  the  state  are  the  very 
old  men  who  are  rilled  with  old  rigid  ideas  they  can 
not  get  rid  of,  and  the  very  young  men  who  are  filled 
with  new  fantastical  ideas  they  can  not  digest." 

"Which  reminds  me,  Monsieur,"  said  the  king, 


THE   FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  n 

"that  I  am  suffering  from  indigestion;  the  politics 
of  the  present  day  are  a  stew  made  by  the  politicians 
of  the  past — they  were  bad  cooks.  If  you  attempt 
to  swallow  it  you  will  get  indigestion,  as  I  have  done. 
Let  us  leave  it  to  the  politicians  of  the  future.  Look 
after  De  Lussac  and  his  friends  as  much  as  you 
please.  For  me  they  are  like  madame's  marmosets ; 
they  chatter  and  chatter  and  scratch  each  other's 
heads.  Let  them  chatter,  as  long  as  they  don't  chat- 
ter too  loud  and  disturb  our  peace." 

The  king  moved  in  his  chair  to  indicate  that  the 
interview  was  over,  and  De  Sartines,  knowing  his 
majesty  better  than  his  majesty  knew  himself, 
judged  that  he  was  now  bored  sufficiently  for  his 
purpose.  He  rose,  bowed,  and  taking  a  paper  from 
his  pocket  placed  it  on  the  table. 

It  was  a  lettre  de  cachet  in  blank. 

"Your  Majesty's  wish  is  law,  and  now,  Sire,  on  a 
matter  of  police,  may  I  ask  your  signature  to  this  ?" 

The  king  glanced  at  the  paper,  made  a  face,  took  a 
pen,  tested  the  nib,  and  signed. 

"Here  is  your  weapon,  dear  De  Sartines;  only 
don't  let  it  bring  Monsieur  le  Marechal  growling  to 
me  because  his  kinsman  has  been  given  apartments 
at  Vincennes,  or  in  our  fortress  of  the  Bastile,  with- 
out a  cause." 


12         THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"I  never  act  without  a  cause,  Sire." 

"True — it  is  your  affair.  But  remember,  also,  De 
Sartines,  that  Madame  la  Baronne  is  sacred — as  far 
as  her  person ;  she  is  accredited  to  us  in  a  way." 

"Oh,  your  Majesty,"  replied  De  Sartines,  putting 
sand  on  the  paper,  "you  may  be  sure  that  I  am  cir- 
cumspect in  all  my  dealings  with  ladies.  Have  you 
ever  known  me,  Sire,  to  cross  my  sword  with  a  fan 
in  the  open?  I  never  approach  a  lady  of  rank  in  my 
business,  except  through  one  of  those  three  avenues 
which  a  woman  keeps  open  for  her  ruin." 

"And  those  three  avenues  are — ?" 

"Her  lover,  her  maid  and  her  milliner,  Sire." 

De  Sartines,  seeming  greatly  pleased  with  himself, 
folded  the  paper,  placed  it  in  his  pocket,  and  bowing 
profoundly,  advanced  backward  to  the  door.  The 
door  seemed  to  open  of  its  own  accord  as  this  deft 
courtier  and  perfect  nobleman,  bowing  again,  made 
a  half -turn  and  movement  of  the  hand  that  brought 
him  outside  it,  face  fronting  the  crowd  in  the  Hall 
of  Mirrors,  and  with  the  door  of  the  king's  cabinet 
closed  behind  him. 

The  crowd  divided  before  him  as  he  made  his  way 
to  the  vestibule.  Here  he  received  his  hat  and  cane 
from  Jaquin.  Then,  getting  into  his  carriage  and 


THE   FIFTEENTH    LOUIS  13 

drawing  his  robe  of  marten  fur  about  him,  he  gave 
the  word  to  his  coachman — "Paris." 

He  did  not  tell  his  majesty  that  only  the  day  be- 
fore the  police  had  raided  the  head  office  of  the  So- 
ciety of  the  Midi,  arresting  Messieurs  Barthelmy 
and  Conflans,  not  to  speak  of  twenty  other  more  in- 
significant persons,  and  finding  among  the  papers  of 
the  society  hints  indicating  that  the  Chevalier  de 
Lussac  was  implicated  in  the  doings  of  this,  the 
third  most  important  revolutionary  society  in  Paris. 

His  majesty  was  not  in  the  mood  for  domestic 
politics  at  the  present  moment,  an  attitude  of  mind 
not  disagreeable  to  the  minister,  as  his  majesty  was 
disposed  in  these  matters  to  bear  toward  leniency. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  COMPLAINT  OF  LAVENNE 

AS  THE  carriage  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  pur- 
-L  J^  sued  the  road  to  Paris  the  minister  took  from 
a  Russia  leather  portfolio  some  papers,  and  by  the 
light  of  a  little  lamp  fixed  in  the  side  of  the  carriage 
began  to  examine  them. 

They  were  the  "Papers  of  the  Day,"  that  is  to  say, 
the  chief  and  most  important  papers  relative  to  the 
police  work  of  Paris  and  France  during  the  last 
twenty- four  hours:  reports  from  agents,  a  letter 
from  the  governor  of  Vincennes,  a  report  from 
Monsieur  de  Launay,  governor  of  the  Bastile,  on  the 
condition  of  the  state  prisoner  supposed  to  be  dying; 
a  copy  of  a  ballade  against  himself  seized  from  a 
street  hawker;  papers  relating  to  the  little  and  the 
great,  to  the  man  in  the  embroidered  coat  and  the 
man  in  rags,  all  of  which  he  shuffled  and  arranged  as 
a  dexterous  player  shuffles  and  arranges  his  cards. 
Chief  among  these  papers  were  the  notes  referring 
to  the  Society  of  the  Midi  and  the  men  who  had  been 
already  arrested. 

14 


THE   COMPLAINT   OF   LAVENNE     15 

In  five  minutes  he  had  fixed  the  contents  of  all 
these  papers  in  his  mind  in  proper  sequence,  and  re- 
turning all  but  two  of  them  to  the  portfolio,  held 
these  only  in  his  hand.  One  of  them  related  to  the 
doings  of  a  woman  during  the  last  two  days,  the 
other  to  the  doings  of  a  man,  and  had  you  wished  to 
examine  for  yourself  the  thoroughness  of  Monsieur 
de  Sartines'  methods  and  the  methods  of  his  agents, 
you  could  not  have  done  better  than  to  have  read 
across  his  shoulder  this  closely  written  report  con- 
cerning the  woman. 

"At  nine  o'clock  her  carriage  stopped  at  the  door 
of  her  house,  Number  12  Rue  Coq  Heron;  it  was 
the  same  carriage  which  she  always  uses  for  ordi- 
nary affairs  such  as  shopping,  etc.,  hired  from  Vau- 
drin  in  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe.  It  waited  for  twenty 
minutes.  At  twenty  minutes  past  nine  she  appeared, 
dressed  for  walking,  and  entered  her  carriage,  which 
drove  to  the  shop  of  Monsieur  Boehmer  in  the  Rue 
Royale.  Here  it  stopped.  Madame  got  out,"  etc. 
The  whole  report  was  signed  "Gaussin,  agent",  and 
it  related  to  no  less  a  person  than  the  Baroness 
Sophie  Linden. 

De  Sartines  read  it  witH  impatience,  placed  it  in 
the  portfolio  with  the  other  papers,  and  turned  to  the 
paper  relating  to  the  affairs  of  the  man. 


16         THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

This  report  was  quite  short,  tersely  written  and  to 
the  point.  It  pleased  him  evidently.  It  was  signed 
"Lavenne,  agent",  and  the  man  who  was  the  subject 
of  it  was  no  less  a  person  than  the  Comte  Jean  Ar- 
mand  de  Lussac. 

Then  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  placing  this  paper  in 
the  portfolio  with  the  others,  extinguished  the  little 
lamp,  drew  his  furs  about  him,  and  sat  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  carriage  which  was  bearing  him  rapidly 
to  Paris. 

It  was  now  night,  and  the  trees  by  the  roadside, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  half-moon  rising  in  the  eastern 
sky,  showed  up  darkly  against  the  silvery  mists  of 
the  fields. 

At  the  toll-gate  the  carriage  did  not  stop,  but 
passed  at  full  speed  and  on  through  the  streets  of 
Paris,  splashing  the  passers  with  mud;  heedless  of 
children,  dogs,  pedestrians  who  wished  to  cross  the 
way;  a  perfect  representation  of  the  government 
whose  minister  it  contained.  The  streets  through 
which  it  was  now  passing  were  badly  lighted  by  oil 
lamps,  badly  paved,  filthy  with  refuse  and  mud,  nar- 
row, and  like  the  streets  and  passages  one  passes 
through  in  bad  dreams.  Poverty  and  hunger  walked 
here  in  rags,  not  as  spectral  figures,  but  figures  of 
flesh  and  blood.  Frightful  faces  were  to  be  seen, 


THE   COMPLAINT   OF   LAVENNE     17 

spectral  faces,  pitiable  faces,  men  in  tatters,  women 
in  rags.  Infinite  squalor!  In  these  poor  streets  all 
men  and  all  women  seemed  bent,  like  those  trees  we 
see  on  sea-coasts,  by  a  bleak  wind  always  blowing 
from  the  same  quarter,  bent  and  stunted  by  the  pres- 
sure of  some  heavy  and  chilling  hand.  Splashing 
these  with  the  mud  of  its  wheels  drove  the  carriage 
of  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  its  occupant  curled,  scent- 
ed, dressed  more  gorgeously  than  the  lilies  of  the 
field,  gazing  through  the  windows  on  the  people  he 
passed  as  Jove  might  gaze  on  mortals. 

The  carriage  crossed  the  poorer  part  of  the  city, 
making  for  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  where  at 
the  gateway  of  a  large  mansion  they  turned  in, 
crossed  the  courtyard  and  drew  up  at  the  steps. 

It  was  the  Hotel  de  Sartines. 

The  footman  opening  the  door,  the  minister  of  po- 
lice descended,  went  up  the  steps  and  passing  the  sa- 
luting guards  at  the  doorway  entered  the  great  hall, 
whence  he  took  his  way  by  a  flight  of  deeply-carpet- 
ed stairs  to  his  official  bureau  on  the  first  floor. 

This  room,  still  haunted  by  the  shade  of  Monsieur 
d'Ombreval,  deserves  a  word  of  mention.  Here  the 
police-political  business  of  the  state  was  conducted ; 
here  the  attainted  noblemen,  the  common  forger,  the 
suspect,  the  man  being  persecuted,  and  the  man  pur- 


i8         THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

sued  came  face  to  face  with  the  man  in  power. 
From  here  men  went  to  Vincennes  or  the  Bastile  or 
death. 

The  room  was  octagonal,  with  a  polished  parquet 
floor;  fauteuils  stood  about,  for  it  was  used  by  the 
minister  as  a  chamber  of  audience  as  well  as  an  offi- 
cial bureau ;  it  was  lighted  by  wax  candles  burning  in 
silver  sconces,  and  opposite  the  door  stood  the  fa- 
mous bureau  with  a  hundred  compartments  and  se- 
cret drawers,  once  the  property  of  his  predecessor. 
A.  square  table,  half  covered  by  a  cloth  of  green  silk, 
stood  near  the  bureau;  on  it  were  some  despatches 
that  had  just  arrived  and  which  De  Sartines  exam- 
ined while  waiting  for  the  agent  Gaussin,  for  whom 
he  had  sent. 

He  was  standing  reading,  like  this,  when  the  door 
opened  and  the  agent  appeared. 

Gaussin  was  a  big  man  with  a  head  that  made  one 
think  of  the  head  of  a  horse;  he  had  a  long  face 
and  only  one  expression.  He  was  less  a  man  than  a 
machine. 

De  Sartines  turned,  received  his  subordinate's  sa- 
lute, and  taking  the  report  from  the  small  portfolio 
he  had  placed  on  the  bureau,  said:  "You  wrote 

this?" 

The  cautious  Gaussin  approached  before  commit- 


19 

ting  himself  as  if  to  examine  the  paper,  but  his  mas- 
ter waved  him  back. 

"Peste!  it  is  yours — the  report  on  Madame  la  Ba- 
ronne  Linden.  The  day  before  yesterday  I  said  to 
you :  'Follow  this  woman  closely,  get  into  her  house 
if  you  can,  examine  her  papers  if  possible,  and  if 
possible  intercept  any  correspondence  between  her 
and  the  Comte  de  Lussac.'  How  have  you  done 
this?" 

"Monsieur,"  said  Gaussin,  without  moving  a  mus- 
cle of  his  face,  "since  you  gave  me  the  order  I  have 
adhered  to  Madame  la  Baronne  like  a  plaster — " 

"Put  on  by  a  quack  or  a  fool." 

"Monsieur — " 

"Silence." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"You  have  found  out  nothing — " 

"Monsieur,  there  was  nothing  to  find." 

"You  waste  your  ink  and  paper  on  every  little 
trifling  detail.  I  said  get  into  her  house  if  possi- 
ble—" 

"And  I  tried,  Monsieur." 

"How? — through  a  window?" 

"No,  Monsieur;  through  a  pretty  servant-maid." 

"And  you  failed." 

Gaussin  scratched  his  chin. 


20         THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Not  exactly  failed,  Monsieur." 

"Then  you  did  get  in?" 

"No,  Monsieur.  She  pushed  me  out  with  a  broom, 
and  the  servant  Placide,  an  old  scoundrel  with  a 
white  beard,  locked  the  door  in  my  face.  But  to- 
night I  will  court  her  again.  I  have  thought  of  a 
new  method.  This  time  I  shall  get  in." 

"You  will  not.  You  are  dismissed  from  the  case. 
Take  up  something  simpler.  Go  report  yourself  to 
Monsieur  Beauregard,  and  order  Lavenne  to  be  sent 
to  me." 

Gaussin  saluted,  turned,  and  left  the  room,  while 
De  Sartines,  grumbling  to  himself,  went  on  reading 
his  despatches. 

He  had  finished  them  and  had  placed  them  on  the 
table  when  three  raps  on  the  door,  given  by  the  ush- 
er's wand,  introduced  Lavenne. 

Lavenne  was  a  young-looking  man  with  the  pale 
face  and  jet-black  hair  one  finds  among  the  men  of 
the  south ;  he  had  eyes  dark  and  luminous,  possessing 
that  brilliancy  of  the  cornea,  that  sparkle  and  glitter, 
which  almost  invariably  is  found  in  men  of  high  in- 
telligence. His  features  were  mobile,  changing  in 
expression,  seeming  to  betray  his  inmost  feelings 
and  thoughts ;  thus  giving  him  an  appearance  of  in- 
genuousness that  was  as  fictitious  as  his  appearance 
of  youth. 


THE    COMPLAINT    OF   LAVENNE     21 

"Ah,  Lavenne,"  said  the  minister  of  police,  "you 
have  come.  I  have  received  your  report,  and  you 
are  not  making  much  progress,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Monsieur,"  said  Lavenne,  "I  have  not  had  much 
time." 

"You  have  had  three  days." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  replied  Lavenne,  "in  a  woman's 
affairs  what  are  three  days?  A  creature  who  takes 
three  hours  to  buy  a  hat,  who  takes  an  hour  to  write 
a  letter  which  means  nothing,  and  a  moment  to  put 
a  postscript  which  means  everything — " 

"But,  cordieu!"  cried  De  Sartines,  "there  is  no 
woman  in  the  question.  I  told  you  to  watch  the 
Comte  de  Lussac,  to  intercept  his  letters,  and  you 
come  prattling  to  me  of  a  woman !" 

"Monsieur,  I  have  watched  him.  You  say,  Mon- 
sieur, that  there  is  no  woman  in  the  question.  Do 
you  not  know,  Monsieur,  that  the  comte  is  in  love?" 

"I  know  there  is  an  affair  between  him  and  that 
Austrian  woman.  Though,  from  what  I  can  make 
out,  they  have  never  been  alone  together,  he  follows 
her  like  a  poodle — " 

"Monsieur,  it  is  more  than  an  'affair'.  He  is  in 
love  with  her  to  the  hilt.  To  watch  him  it  is  also 
necessary  to  watch  her,  and  to  watch  her,  if  Mon- 
sieur will  permit  me  to  say  so,  requires  better  eyes 
than  the  eyes  of  a  blind  horse." 


22         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"You  have  some  meaning  behind  that  expres- 
sion?" asked  De  Sartines,  looking  fixedly  at  the 
agent. 

"Monsieur,  I  have  more  than  a  meaning.  I  have 
a  complaint." 

"A  complaint  ?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur.  Three  days  ago  you  said  to  me, 
'I  put  you  on  the  case  of  the  Comte  de  Lussac.  He 
is  a  conspirator  against  the  established  order,  a 
friend  of  Rousseau's,  a  member,  I  suspect,  of  the 
Society  of  the  Midi.  Watch  him  like  a  cat;  use 
what  methods  you  will,  but  bring  me  evidence  that 
he  belongs  to  the  society.  Bring  me  evidence,  evi- 
dence, evidence' — those  were  your  words,  Monsieur. 
I  took  up  the  case  in  my  own  way,  and  before  I  had 
been  working  twelve  hours  I  found  that  I  was  being 
hampered  by  a  blind  horse  you  had  let  into  the  case. 
I  refer  to  Gaussin." 

"Go  on,"  said  De  Sartines,  greatly  incensed  by 
this  criticism  of  his  methods  coming  from  an  in- 
ferior, but  restraining  his  temper. 

"Before  I  had  been  working  twelve  hours  I  found 
this  blunderer  poking  his  nose  into  my  business, 
hanging  on  the  skirts  of  Madame  la  Baronne,  follow- 
ing her  carriage,  and,  to  crown  his  stupidity,  trying 
to  make  love  to  her  maid  and  being  received  with  a 


THE   COMPLAINT    OF   LAVENNE     23 

broom  and  a  bucket  of  cold  water  which  Placide, 
her  man-servant,  flung  over  him.  The  result,  Mon- 
sieur, is  that  as  nearly  as  possible  the  affair  has  been 
spoiled." 

"Anything  more?" 

"Only  this,  Monsieur — Gaussin  is  an  excellent 
man  for  the  arrest  of  market  porters  or  pickpockets, 
but  in  an  affair  of  this  sort  he  is  out  of  place." 

The  truth  in  these  words  did  not  at  all  abate  the 
anger  of  De  Sartines  at  the  criticism  of  his  own 
judgment  which  they  contained,  but,  so  completely 
master  of  himself  was  he  that  he  showed  nothing  of 
his  feelings  in  the  expression  of  his  face;  his  man- 
ner only  altered ;  it  became  freezing.  He  glanced  at 
the  clock  on  the  mantel,  paused  for  a  moment  as  if 
in  thought,  and  then  said,  speaking  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly :  "It  is  now  twenty-five  minutes  past  nine, 
Monday,  the  fourth  of  May.  I  give  you  till  four 
o'clock  on  Wednesday — that  is,  two  days  less  five 
hours  and  twenty-five  minutes — to  bring  me  the  evi- 
dence I  seek  or  to  prove  to  me  definitely  that  such 
evidence  does  not  exist." 

"And  if  I  fail,  Monsieur?" 

"You  are  dismissed  from  my  service  for  the  in- 
solence you  have  just  shown  in  criticizing  my  meth- 
ods." 


"And  I  am  to  have  a  free  hand,  Monsieur,  and  no 
more  Gaussins?"  asked  Lavenne  joyfully,  and  not 
seeming  at  all  depressed  by  the  final  clause. 

"You  will  have  a  free  hand." 

Lavenne  bowed  profoundly  and  left  the  room, 
while  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Sartines,  turning  to  his 
bureau,  began  to  arrange  his  private  correspondence 
for  the  day,  shutting  the  door  of  his  mind  on  official 
matters. 

The  position  of  minister  of  police  under  the 
regime  of  Louis  XV.  required  very  exceptional 
properties  in  the  man  who  held  it.  To  begin  with, 
it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  of  noble  birth,  a 
courtier  with  all  that  complex  theory  of  etiquette  in- 
troduced by  Louis  XIV.  at  his  fingers'  ends ;  an  as- 
tute politician,  for  in  this  age  of  ferment  high  poli- 
tics had  a  finger  in  the  pigeonholes  of  the  bureau  of 
Monsieur  d'Ombreval;  a  man  with  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  women ;  a  wit  in  an  age  when  laughter 
was  as  poisonous  as  strychnine ;  a  man  of  the  world 
and  a  logician;  a  dandy,  yet  not  above  descending 
into  the  sewers  of  Paris,  and,  above  all,  a  man  proof 
against  hatred;  caring  nothing  for  the  detestation  of 
the  rogues  his  agents  arrested,  of  the  shopkeepers  he 
prosecuted  for  false  weight,  of  the  philosophers  he 
persecuted  for  false  opinions,  of  the  ballad-mongers 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  LAVENNE  25 

and  literary  larvae  whose  fangs  he  pulled  when  they 
grew  too  strong  against  Madame  du  Barry,  the  king, 
or  the  court. 

Such  a  man  was  De  Sartines,  complex  and  multi- 
faced,  smiling  to-day  on  the  man  whom  he  would 
imprison  to-morrow,  with  the  order  of  imprison- 
ment all  the  time  in  his  pocket ;  yet  not  at  all  to  be 
judged  by  our  standards  of  right  and  wrong. 

In  this  bureau  at  which  he  sat  writing  now,  among 
the  numerous  documents  and  dossiers  which  it  con- 
tained, were  to  be  found  papers  relative  to  the  morals 
and  lives  of  most  of  his  court  acquaintances;  you 
can  fancy,  then,  the  feelings  of  these  people  rubbing 
shoulders  at  court  and  social  functions  with  this 
elegant  who  was  in  himself  a  living  criticism  and 
threat,  and  who,  though  feared,  was  treated  by  them 
with  scant  courtesy — when  they  dared. 

At  half  past  ten  Monsieur  de  Sartines  finished  his 
private  correspondence  and  rose  from  his  chair.  His 
eyes  fell  on  the  clock,  and  almost  immediately  the 
recollection  of  Lavenne  and  his  mission  recurred  to 
him. 

"At  four  o'clock  on  Wednesday,"  said  he,  "if  this 
scamp  fails  to  bring  me  what  I  seek,  he  leaves  my 
service.  I  never  go  back  on  my  word." 


CHAPTER  III 

A  LADY  OF  OTHER  DAYS 

THE  establishment  of  Behrens  and  Bompard  in 
the  Rue  Saint  Honore  held  in  the  year  1770  a 
position  amid  the  world  of  fashion  analogous  to  that 
of  the  establishment  of  Percerin  in  the  early  years 
of  the  Grand  Monarch,  albeit  the  illustrious  Percerin 
was  a  clothier  of  the  male  form  and  the  illustrious 
Behrens  (Bompard  was  a  myth)  of  the  female. 

The  house  of  Labille,  once  famous,  had  received 
its  death-blow  owing  to  the  fact  that  Madame  du 
Barry  had  once  been  an  employe,  the  ladies  of  the 
court  withdrawing  their  custom  as  a  protest  against 
the  origin  of  the  woman  whom  fate  had  placed 
above  them,  and  with  the  fading  of  the  Maison  La- 
bille the  Maison  Behrens  blossomed  forth. 

Behrens  was  a  small  man  with  a  great  personality, 
possessing  a  genius  for  color  and  effect,  a  keen  eye 
for  a  doubtful  customer,  and  a  ready  tongue. 

His  show-rooms  were  the  meeting  place  of  the 
elegant  world  who  came  to  discuss  silk  and  scandals, 
to  try  on  dresses  and  opinions,  or  simply  to  examine 
new  models  and  to  talk  of  hats  with  Behrens. 

26 


A   LADY    OF    OTHER    DAYS          27, 

Behrens,  great  man  that  he  was,  had  risen  to  the 
occasion.  He  had  spent  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
on  the  decoration  and  enlargement  of  his  premises, 
tall  footmen  served  chocolate  to  those  requiring  it, 
his  female  assistants  were  plain  of  feature  and  mod- 
est, as  though  to  say,  "No  Du  Barry  shall  ever 
sprout  from  here."  In  short,  in  an  age  when  mo- 
diste was  the  synonym  of  a  hotbed  of  vice,  Behrens 
made  his  establishment  all  propriety,  and  it  paid. 
His  customers,  in  fact,  were  the  only  blot  on  the  fair 
name  of  his  shop,  and  this  was  not  his  fault,  for  they 
were  the  best  he  could  find. 

On  the  morning  after  De  Sartines'  interview  with 
Lavenne,  Madame  de  Joyeuse,  a  woman  of  fifty,  the 
ghost  of  a  beauty,  dressed  in  black,  as  if  in  mourn- 
ing for  her  lost  self,  was  seated  in  the  silk  room  of 
Monsieur  Behrens,  examining  brocades.  This  lady, 
who  had  gained  a  great  name  for  piety  and  religious 
observances,  was  the  wife  of  that  young  gentleman 
whom  we  have  already  seen  accosting  Monsieur  de 
Sartines  at  Versailles.  She  was  seated  in  a  stiff  high- 
backed  arm-chair,  her  feet  on  a  footstool,  while 
behind  her,  motionless,  dressed  in  a  crimson  livery, 
four  feet  high  and  looking  as  if  carved  from  ebony, 
stood  Zapolite,  her  black  page-boy. 

Though  Labille  had  been  excommunicated  by  the 


28         THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

ladies  of  Paris,  his  former  shop-girl,  strange  to  say, 
set  the  fashions;  women  sneered  at  yet  copied  her, 
and  the  sight  of  Zamore  behind  her  carriage  had  set 
the  fashion  for  negroes.  Their  scarcity  helped  the 
craze. 

The  history  of  Zapolite  was  less  the  history  of  a 
human  being  than  that  of  a  toby  jug  or  rare  piece 
of  china,  belonging  to  this  person  and  that  in  turn. 
It  was  said  that  Madame  de  Joyeuse  had  won  him  at 
cards. 

Behrens'  chief  assistant  was  on  his  knees  before 
madame,  holding  the  brocade  this  way  and  that  for 
the  light  to  strike  it,  when  from  the  doorway  leading 
into  the  hat  department,  Monsieur  Behrens  himself 
appeared,  followed  by  a  lady. 

It  was  Madame  de  Stenlis,  a  woman  of  thirty,  yet 
looking  scarcely  twenty-five,  exquisitely  dressed  in  a 
robe  of  striped  white  and  lavender  material,  wear- 
ing a  large  picture-hat  adorned  with  plumes  of  os- 
trich feathers,  and  bearing  in  her  hand,  as  was  then 
the  fashion,  a  tall  walking-cane  adorned  with  a  bow 
of  ribbon. 

The  two  ladies  bowed  one  to  the  other  and  ex- 
changed greetings,  while  Behrens  went  to  fetch  the 
silk  that  Madame  de  Stenlis  wished  to  see. 

"And  how  is  dear  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse?"  asked 


A   LADY   OF  OTHER   DAYS          29 

the  younger  woman,  taking  her  seat  on  a  fauteuil 
almost  facing  the  other  and  with  command  of  two 
mirrors. 

"Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  is  very  well,"  replied  ma- 
dame,  with  an  edge  on  her  voice,  for  her  female 
friends,  with  that  kindness  of  heart  so  distinctive  of 
the  sex,  were  never  forgetful  of  this  inquiry,  which 
was  often  the  opening  gambit  of  a  duel  of  tongues. 

"And  as  youthful  as  ever?" 

"As  youthful  as  ever,  Madame,  and  happy  in  his 
youth.  Ah,  Madame,  what  a  great  thing  is  youth! 
One  can  say  for  it  this,  at  least,  it  has  no  past." 

Now,  Madame  de  Stenlis  possessed  a  past  both 
Apolitical,  social  and  moral,  of  which  more  was 
^guessed  than  known. 

"That  is  so,"  replied  she.  "Yet  have  you  not 
often  felt,  Madame,  what  a  dismal  thing  is  age  in 
that  it  has  no  future?  Before  heaven,  I  think  that 
the  union  of  youth  and  age  is  the  wisest,  for  is  it  not 
the  union  of  a  past  and  a  future?  One  gives  the 
other  what  the  other  has  not  got." 

Madame  de  Stenlis'  conversational  philosophies 
held  more  in  them  often  than  the  wit  of  the  listener 
could  grapple  with  on  the  instant,  for  she  was  a 
rapid  speaker  and  she  gave  no  points,  as  a  rule,  that 
one  could  catch  hold  of.  Madame  de  Joyeuse,  feel- 


30         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

ing  the  ridicule  of  the  other's  remark,  and  unable  to 
attack  it  because  of  its  cloud-like  nature,  blinked  her 
eyes. 

She  was  on  the  point  of  replying  at  last  when  a 
voice,  bell-like,  golden — a  woman's  voice  that,  once 
heard,  became  a  treasure  of  the  memory — came 
from  the  adjoinig  room. 

"Thank  you,  but  I  wish  to  see  Monsieur  Behrens 
himself.  He  is  in  the  silk  room?  A  thousand 
thanks." 

"The  Austrian,"  said  Madame  de  Stenlis  and  Ma- 
dame de  Joyeuse,  as  though  they  had  been  automa- 
tons tongue-tipped  with  the  same  word. 

One  could  see  that  in  a  flash  the  pair  had  forgot- 
ten their  mutual  differences  in  the  recognition  of  the 
presence  of  a  common  enemy,  and  scarcely  had  they 
spoken  when  she  appeared,  preceded  by  an  assistant 
who  announced  in  a  loud  voice,  so  as  to  draw  the 
attention  of  Behrens,  "Madame  la  Baronne  Linden." 

Sophie  Linden — Sophie  Anastase  Therese,  Ba- 
ronne Linden,  to  give  her  her  full  name — formed  in 
the  doorway  of  the  silk  room  of  Monsieur  Behrens 
a  picture  not  unworthy  of  the  brush  of  Fragonard; 
one  might  almost  say  she  had  his  touch ;  light,  flow- 
ing, graceful,  she  seemed  to  have  stepped  from  the 
mist  and  muslin  and  trees  and  parterres  of  Frago- 


A   LADY   OF   OTHER    DAYS          31 

nard-land,  to  have  dropped  from  one  of  those 
swings  that  sweep  the  drapery  of  May  through 
April-colored  air,  to  have  risen  from  one  of  those 
tombs  where  Grace  in  distraction  has  cast  herself  be- 
neath the  autumn  trees  to  mourn  for  a  lover. 

Her  face  beneath  the  broad  mauve  hat  with  its 
plume  of  feathers  was  distracting,  perplexing,  less 
beautiful  than  piquant,  capable  of  somber  moods  and 
charming  smiles ;  wit  lay  on  her  lips  and  thought  had 
molded  her  brow,  extraordinary  mobility  of  expres- 
sion adapted  her  countenance  to  the  lightest  word 
upon  her  lips,  a  deadly  property  or  a  delightful,  ac- 
cording as  to  whether  she  used  the  rapier  of  a  wom- 
an's wit  or  the  laughter  which,  despite  her  twenty- 
five  years,  was  as  genuine  and  clear  as  the  laughter 
of  a  young  girl. 

Withal  she  had  a  bonhomie  natural  and  naive,  the 
real  gold  of  womanhood  showing  through  all  the 
fretwork  that  her  experience  of  the  world  had  cut 
upon  it. 

To  be  perfectly  frank,  this  lady,  who  had  come  to 
Paris  some  six  weeks  ago  accredited  to  the  French 
court  on  a  microscopic  mission  to  the  dauphiness 
from  the  court  of  Vienna,  was  in  Vienna  a  person 
of  considerable  obscurity  with  more  natural  wit 
than  money,  and  a  fine  talent  for  adventure.  Her 


32         THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

husband,  Baron  Linden,  was  dead.  He  had  been  a 
small  partner  in  a  large  bank  that  had  come  to  grief, 
and  had  died  leaving  his  wife  nothing  but  his  debts 
and  her  jewelry.  Either  as  a  bold  stroke  of  policy 
or  urged  by  a  natural  honesty,  she  paid  the  small 
creditors  by  the  sale  of  her  jewelry,  established  a 
name  for  honesty,  made  friends  with  several  finan- 
ciers, disclosed  a  faculty  for  knowing  bad  specula- 
tions from  good  ones,  and  blossomed.  She  pos- 
sessed that  rarest  of  human  gifts,  an  instinct  for 
things  that  were  genuine,  and  the  financiers  of  Vi- 
enna who  were  her  friends,  being  men  of  genius, 
discovered  this  instinct,  and  being  men  of  affairs, 
made  use  of  it. 

Just  then  Europe  was  in  a  condition  of  ferment 
and  unrest  almost  analogous  to  its  condition  to-day. 
The  deep  discontent  of  the  masses,  crushed  beneath 
the  ambitions  of  a  few  men;  that  discontent  which 
to-day  is  expressed  in  socialism  and  anarchism,  was 
then  alive  under  a  different  name — or  perhaps  name- 
less. 

Voltaire  was  breaking  to  pieces  the  shackles  of  re- 
ligion; Rousseau  at  the  Cafe  de  Regence  was  preach- 
ing the  right  to  think ;  a  thousand  men,  some  in  the 
gutter,  some  near  the  throne,  were  preparing  the 
great  explosion  of  the  Revolution. 


A   LADY    OF   OTHER   DAYS          33 

Rumors  of  this  heaving  amid  the  people  filled  the 
world,  but  were  not  understood ;  scarcely  appreciat- 
ed, except  by  the  Jew  financiers  of  Vienna.  Wish- 
ing to  find  out  the  truth  of  things,  they  sought  an 
agent,  hence  the  journey  to  Paris  of  Madame  la 
Baronne  Linden;  hence  a  backstairs  intrigue  by 
which  our  charming  friend  was  intrusted  with  a 
present  from  the  empress  to  the  dauphiness,  made 
one  of  those  informal  couriers  common  between  the 
European  courts  at  that  period  when  a  present  of 
lace  called  for  a  special  commissioner  to  carry  it, 
and  a  Perigord  pie  stamped  on  its  cover  with  the 
royal  arms  went  in  state  like  an  ambassador. 

It  was  the  humor  of  love  that  the  agent  of  the 
Viennese  Gundermanns  should  have  discovered  in 
her  researches  into  the  state  of  France  a  conspirator 
against  the  monarchy  as  charming  as  herself — • 
though  of  the  male  sex — the  Comte  Armand  de 
Lussac. 

Received  at  the  court,  living  in  a  well-furnished 
house  rented  in  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  she  had  made 
during  her  short  sojourn  in  the  capital  a  considerable 
impression  on  the  world  of  Paris  and  Versailles, 
and  many  enemies,  whose  enmity  gave  her  that  deep 
satisfaction  which  the  enmity  of  the  unsuccessful 
and  plain  creates  in  the  successful  and  beautiful. 


34         THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

The  love  she  had  inspired  in  De  Lussac  had  creat- 
ed for  her  a  willing  assassin  in  the  person  of  Ma- 
dame la  Comtesse  d'Harlancourt,  whose  husband  we 
have  seen  buttonholing  De  Sartines  at  Versailles; 
Madame  de  Joyeuse  and  Madame  de  Stenlis  hated 
her  just  for  herself,  and  De  Sartines,  from  her  sus- 
pected intimacy  with  De  Lussac,  whose  steps  he  was 
following  with  the  persistence  of  a  hound  and  whose 
political  intrigues  he  more  than  suspected,  had  for 
her  a  deep  mistrust. 

This  lady,  having  bowed  to  Mesdames  de  Joyeuse 
and  de  Stenlis,  advanced  and  without  addressing 
them  turned  her  attention  and  tongue  on  Monsieur 
Behrens,  who  was  approaching  with  the  silk  which 
Madame  de  Stenlis  had  wished  to  see. 

"My  dear  Behrens,"  said  the  new-comer,  address- 
ing him  tout  court  with  the  manner  of  a  person  ad- 
dressing a  favorite  dog,  "when  you  have  recovered 
from  the  disability  under  which  you  are  laboring  I 
wish  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"And  that,  Madame  ?"  cried  Behrens,  casting  the 
roll  of  silk  on  the  floor  at  the  feet  of  Madame  de 
Stenlis,  twitching  up  a  few  yards  of  it,  festooning  it 
that  she  might  see  the  lights  and  shades,  bowing  to 
Madame  Linden  as  though  she  were  the  dauphiness, 
smiling,  all  at  the  same  time;  a  wonderful  man 
milliner.  "And  that,  Madame?" 


A   LADY   OF   OTHER    DAYS          35 

"Ma  -foil  Monsieur  Behrens,  you  do  so  many 
things  at  the  same  time  that  you  have  made  me  for- 
get my  question.  Dear  Madame  de  Stenlis,  do  not 
let  me  interfere  with  your  decision  on  that  exquisite 
silk,  unless,  indeed,  you  ask  me  for  my  opinion 
of  it." 

"And  your  opinion,  Madame?" 

"Is  that  it  would  suit  you  admirably,  both  in  its 
exquisite  color  and  superb  texture." 

Madame  de  Stenlis  turned  this  compliment  over 
in  her  mind,  mumbled  it  as  a  fish  mumbles  a  bait  to 
see  if  there  is  a  hook  in  it,  and  finding  none,  bowed 
graciously  and  looked  at  the  silk  anew  by  way  of 
finding  safety. 

At  this  moment,  at  the  same  doorway  by  which 
Madame  Linden  had  entered,  appeared  the  form  of 
a  young  man. 

It  was  the  Comte  de  Lussac. 

However  deeply  this  gentleman  may  have  beei 
steeped  in  the  philosophy  of  Rousseau,  he  did  not  at 
all  events  imitate  that  master  in  his  dress,  which 
was  superb,  and  standing  between  the  crimson  silk 
curtains  of  the  doorway  he  made  a  picture  worthy 
of  the  brush  of  Monsieur  Drouais.  Handsome,  with 
all  the  elegance  of  a  man  of  the  court,  there  was  yet 
about  him  something  that  stamped  him  as  a  man 
apart,  something  of  the  visionary,  the  enthusiast 


36         THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

and  the  poet,  rare  in  that  age  of  animal  lust,  chilling 
wit  and  embroidered  brutality. 

The  Comte  de  Lussac  bowed  to  the  ladies, 
glanced  with  amusement  at  Behrens,  and  advanced 
to  the  side  of  the  Baroness  Linden,  who  was  still 
standing  opposite  Madame  de  Stenlis. 

"Monsieur  de  Lussac,"  said  the  baroness,  "your 
opinion  on  this  silk?" 

"Madame,"  replied  the  young  man  with  a  little 
laugh,  "I  can  only  liken  it  to  the  poetry,  of  silk- 
worms, unhappy  in  the  fate  that  deprives  them  of 
the  eyes  which  would  enable  them  to  see  the  majestic 
form  of  Monsieur  Behrens,  the  publisher  of  their 
work." 

"Ah,  ma  foi!"  cried  the  delighted  Behrens,  "it  is 
easy  to  see  that  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  himself  a 
poet." 

De  Lussac  bowed. 

"Enriching  all  that  he  touches,  be  they  silkworms, 
men — " 

"Or  women,"  put  in  Madame  de  Joyeuse,  with  a 
glance  at  Madame  la  Baronne  Linden. 

De  Lussac  flushed;  he  was  about  to  make  some 
reply  when  the  Baroness  Systerman  and  Madame  la 
Comtesse  d'Harlancourt  entered  the  room,  preceded 
by  a  female  assistant  carrying  a  huge  hat. 


A   LADY   OF   OTHER   DAYS          37 

The  hat  was  being  conveyed  before  the  ladies  into 
the  dress  department ;  seeing  De  Lussac  and  his  com- 
panions, however,  they  turned,  bowed  to  the  seated 
ladies  and  passed  on,  Madame  d'Harlancourt  cast- 
ing a  venomous  glance  upon  De  Lussac  and  ignoring 
utterly  the  woman  who  was  standing  beside  him. 

Madame  de  Stenlis  and  Madame  de  Joyeuse 
laughed.  Madame  Linden  paled  for  a  moment  at 
the  insult,  then  she  laughed,  and  turning  to  Behrens : 
"That  reminds  me,  Monsieur  Behrens,  of  the  ques- 
tion I  wished  to  ask  you.  Is  there  not  a  robe  of 
green  among  the  dresses  I  am  ordering  from  you  to 
take  to  Vienna?" 

"Why,  yes,  Madame,  the  robe  to  be  worn  with 
that  hat  of  half-blown  apple  blossoms  is  of  au  bord 
de  riviere  green." 

"Then  I  countermand  it,  or  if  already  made,  send 
it  with  my  compliments  to  Madame  la  Comtesse 
d'Harlancourt" 

"But  why,  Madame?"  cried  the  astonished  Beh- 
rens. "Only  the  other  day  you  were  in  raptures 
with  the  costume  as  sketched  by  me  for  your  imag- 
ination to  dwell  upon.  And  to  the  Comtesse  d'Har- 
lancourt! But  why,  Madame?" 

"Because,  my  dear  Monsieur  Behrens,  I  have  just 
remembered  that  green  is  the  color  of  arsenic." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF    PASSION 

MADAME  LA  BARONNE  had  made  some 
small  purchases  before  entering  the  silk 
room,  and  these  the  Comte  de  Lussac,  taking  them 
from  the  hand  of  the  assistant,  carried  after  her  to 
the  door  of  her  carriage. 

She  directed  the  coachman  to  drive  her  home, 
then,  when  she  was  seated  with  the  parcels  beside 
her,  she  said  to  the  young  man,  who  was  standing 
hat  in  hand  at  the  door,  "Will  you  not  get  in  ?" 

Bowing  low,  he  did  as  she  asked  him,  closed  the 
door,  and  the  carriage  started. 

Emotional,  deeply  in  love,  scarcely  twenty-five 
years  of  age,  and  with  sensibilities  that  neither  time 
nor  the  world  had  hardened,  the  young  man,  for  the 
first  time  alone  with  this  woman  who  had  fascinated 
him,  could  scarcely  speak. 

Then,  with  the  charming  impulsiveness  of  youth 
and  in  a  manner  quite  without  offense,  he  boldly  laid 
his  hand  upon  her  little  gloved  hand  resting  in  her 

38 


THE    PHILOSOPHY   OF    PASSION     39 

lap.  Without  resenting  the  action,  she  released  her 
hand  and  with  a  smile  that  atoned  for  her  words, 
said,  "I  did  not  ask  you  to  take  a  seat  in  my  carriage 
for  that  purpose,  but  because  I  wished  to  speak  to 
you  alone.  Are  you  my  friend  ?" 

"Oh,  Madame !"  cried  De  Lussac.  "For  days  past 
I  have  sought  the  opportunity  to  see  you,  to  speak 
to  you  alone,  to  tell  you  quite  plainly  that  I  have  but 
one  thought  in  the  world  and  that  is  you,  to  tell  you 
without  any  of  those  compliments  that  men  use  to- 
ward women  that  I  have  but  one  desire  in  life,  to 
die  for  you  if  need  be — and  you  ask  me  am  I  your 
friend!" 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  meditatively,  al- 
most seriously.  Older  than  he,  a  woman  of  the 
world,  with  many  a  shattered  illusion  and  a  nature 
that,  however  wayward,  always  returned  to  balance, 
the  truth  and  ingenuousness  of  the  young  man 
pleased  her  as  we  are  always  pleased  by  the  thing 
that  is  real. 

"Tell  me,"  said  she.  "You  speak  as  though  you 
knew  me  as  I  know  myself,  as  though  you  had 
proved  me  from  long  acquaintanceship.  Do  you 
even  know  who  I  am  ?" 

"Do  I  know  who  you  are !    Ah,  do  I  not !" 

"Who,  then,  ami?" 


40         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Yourself." 

She  laughed. 

"Where  do  I  come  from?" 

"Heaven — at  least,  you  bring  it  with  you.'* 

"Taking  Vienna  and  Paris  on  the  way  ?  Alas,  no, 
Monsieur,  I  am  not  even  a  fallen  angel — just  a  Vien- 
nese. I  always  travel  in  a  straight  line,  and  as  I  am 
returning  to  whence  I  came  on  Friday,  I  shall  sim- 
ply go  to  Vienna,  which,  indeed,  is  far  enough  re- 
moved from  heaven." 

She  laughed  again,  not  seeing  for  a  moment  how 
her  words  had  struck  him  nor  how  pale  he  had  be- 
come. 

"You  leave  on  Friday !"  he  said.  "On  Friday  of 
this  week?" 

"Yes,  and  as  I  leave  Paris  to-day  for  a  visit  to 
Compiegne  and  shall  not  return  till  to-morrow 
afternoon,  I  took  this  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
you  alone  in  my  carriage  where  there  are  no  Mon- 
sieur Behrens  or  Mesdames  de  Joyeuse  to  overhear 
my  words.  Monsieur,  I  have  only  met  you  four 
times :  once  at  the  Duchesse  de  Chartres',  the  next 
day  by  accident  at  the  king's  hunt  in  the  forest  of 
Senart,  the  next  day  by  accident  at  Monsieur  Boeh- 
mer's,  the  jeweler  in  the  Rue  Royale,  and  this  morn- 
ing by  accident  in  the  shop  of  Monsieur  Behrens. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION     41 

Now,  Monsieur  le  Comte,  three  accidents  of  that 
sort  rarely  come  together  by  accident,  and  I  asked 
you  into  my  carriage  to  inquire  of  you  how  you 
knew  I  was  to  attend  the  king's  hunt,  how  you  knew 
I  was  to  be  found  in  the  shop  of  Monsieur  Boehmer, 
and  in  the  shop  of  Monsieur  Behrens  at  eleven 
o'clock  this  morning.  Have  you  been  spying  upon 
my  movements?" 

"Madame,"  said  De  Lussac  quite  simply,  "I 
have." 

"And  the  name  of  your  spy?" 

"Madame,  I  can  not  give  you  his  name  because 
he  is  a  brother  affiliated  to  the  order  to  which  I  be- 
long." 

"A  freemason?" 

"No,  Madame;  a  society  of  brethren  who  have 
sworn  to  free  the  people  of  France  and  the  world 
from  the  tyranny  under  which  they  groan." 

"A  secret  society?" 

"Secret,  Madame,  because  we  live  under  the 
shadow  of  the  sword  and  each  one  of  us  knows  not 
at  what  moment  death  or  the  Bastile  may  be  his  por- 
tion." 

"And  you  tell  me  this  terrible  thing  which  you 
ought  to  mention  to  no  man — " 

"I  tell  you  it,  Madame,  because  I  love  you." 


42          THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

At  this  moment  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the  door- 
way of  Number  12  Rue  Coq  Heron. 

"What  you  have  told  me,  Monsieur,"  said  the 
baroness,  "shows  me  that  at  least  you  have  confi- 
dence in  me.  I  will  be  as  generous.  Come  with  me 
into  my  house." 

The  Comte  de  Lussac  opened  the  door,  helped  his 
companion  to  descend,  and  followed  her  into  the 
house,  the  door  of  which  had  been  opened  at  the 
sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  by  an  old  servant, 
white-bearded,  and  dressed  in  a  livery  that  was  an 
obvious  misfit. 

"Any  letters,  Placide?"  asked  his  mistress  as  she 
crossed  the  hall  toward  the  stairs  leading  to  the 
first  floor  and  the  drawing-room. 

"No,  Madame,"  replied  the  old  fellow  in  a  grum- 
bling voice. 

"Any  callers?" 

"Only  a  man  from  Boehmer,  the  jeweler,  Ma- 
dame, to  say  that  the  diamond  necklace  would  be 
ready  by  Wednesday  as  you  desired.  He  brought 
some  message  as  to  the  fine  quality  of  the  stones 
having  delayed  its  completion,  but  I  have  forgotten 
it,  nor  does  it  matter,  for  all  these  jewelers  and 
tradesmen  are  liars." 

The  baroness  laughed  as  she  led  the  way  up-stairs. 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION     43 

"Placide  is  an  original,"  she  said,  opening  the 
door  of  her  boudoir  and)  exposing  a  pretty  little 
salon  decorated  and  upholstered  in  a  scheme  of  blue ; 
an  escritoire  stood  in  one  corner,  two  windows  gave 
a  view  of  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  and  between  the  win- 
dows, on  an  ormolu  table,  a  great  bowl  of  hothouse 
flowers  filled  the  air  with  their  fragrance. 

"One  might  fancy  him  an  old  servant,"  she  con- 
tinued, casting  her  gloves,  which  she  had  removed, 
on  the  couch,  and  going  to  the  bowl  of  flowers 
which  she  rearranged  as  if  for  the  pleasure  of  touch- 
ing them.  "He  is  old  enough  in  all  conscience,  as 
far  as  age  goes,  but  he  has  only  been  a  very  short 
time  in  my  service.  Listen." 

A  wrangling  sound  came  from  below  stairs. 

"He  is  quarreling  with  Rosine.  He  keeps  the 
whole  house  in  order.  He  is  becoming  insuffera- 
ble." 

"Why,  then,  do  you  not  dismiss  him?"  asked  De 
Lussac,  who  had  taken  his  seat  on  the  fauteuil  and 
with  the  boldness  of  a  lover  was  caressing  one  of  the 
gloves  which  she  had  cast  there. 

"Because,  dear  Monsieur  de  Lussac,  though  he 
has  only  been  in  my  service  a  few  days,  I  find  him 
invaluable — he  is  my  chaperon." 

"Your  chaperon?" 


44         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Yes." 

Still  arranging  the  flowers,  she  touched  a  bell  near 
the  window.  In  a  moment  the  door  opened  and 
Placide  appeared. 

"Placide,"  said  his  mistress,  "kindly  take  my 
gloves  to  Rosine.  Where  are  they  ?  Ah,  I  left  them 
upon  the  fauteuil.  Monsieur  de  Lussac,  may  I  trou- 
ble you  to  pass  my  gloves  to  Placide?" 

De  Lussac,  biting  his  lip  with  mortification, 
handed  the  gloves,  which  the  surly  old  man  carried 
off,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"You  see,  he  is  quite  useful,"  said  Madame  la 
Baronne,  finishing  the  arrangement  of  her  flowers. 
"I  really  did  not  want  a  man-servant.  I  engaged 
him  half  from  pity  and  also  because  he  was  so 
quaint.  He  is  some  relation  of  my  cook.  Do  you 
not  agree  with  me  that  he  is  useful?" 

"He  may  be  useful,  Madame,"  replied  De  Lussac, 
who  had  recovered  his  temper,  "but  this  I  will  say 
— he  is  not  honest." 

"Placide  not  honest!  In  what  way,  Monsieur  le 
Comte?" 

"He  has  robbed  me  of  your  gloves."  He  rose 
from  the  couch  and  advanced  as  if  to  take  her  hand. 
She  stretched  it  toward  the  bell  and  he  paused. 

"Monsieur  le  Comte,  pray  take  your  seat  again  on 


45 

the  fauteuil,  and  I  will  take  this  chair,  and  so  we 
shall  not  weary  Placide.  Now,  let  us  talk.  I  am 
touched  by  your  confidence  in  me,  and  I  have  heard 
the  declaration  you  made  to  me  with  mixed  feel- 
ings." 

"Oh,  Madame!" 

"One  moment!  That  declaration  from  a  man  to 
a  woman  in  my  position  may  be  the  sincerest  com- 
pliment, or  the  reverse.  In  which  way  am  I  to  take 
it?" 

"In  this  way,  Madame,"  replied  the  young  man, 
rising  from  the  couch  and  standing  before  her  as  a 
courtier  might  stand  before  a  queen.  "When  I  said 
'love',  I  said  in  that  word  all  that  love  implies:  re- 
spect, lifelong  devotion.  Without  putting  it  in 
words,  I  asked  you  to  share  my  future  and  my  for- 
tune as  my  wife." 

Madame  la  Baronne  rose  from  her  chair  and 
bowed. 

Standing  before  her,  he  bowed  in  return.  It  was 
a  quaint  picture,  in  keeping  with  the  dress  and  the 
elegant  customs  of  the  time. 

He  did  not  again  attempt  to  take  her  hand;  she 
had  at  a  stroke  put  a  gulf  between  them  such  as  ex- 
ists between  a  powerful  potentate  and  the  ambas- 
sador of  an  inferior  power. 


46         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"To  your  offer,  Monsieur,"  she  made  answer,  as 
they  sat  down  again,  "I  can  only  reply  that  I  thank 
you  sincerely  for  the  compliment  it  contains;  that, 
frankly,  I  have  never  met  a  man  I  liked  so  much  as 
I  like" — she  blushed  slightly — "the  Comte  de  Lus- 
sac;  that  I  have  taken  a  deep  interest  in  him,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  because  he  is  so  unlike  the 
fops  and  fools  of  Paris ;  and  that  just  for  that  rea- 
son and  because  I  study  the  welfare  of  those  whom 
I  like,  I  ought  to  decline  his  offer.  To  do  so  would 
merely  be  fair." 

"Madame—" 

"One  moment,"  replied  this  extraordinary  woman 
who  to  the  genuine  was  always  genuine.  "You  are 
Monsieur  le  Comte  d'e  Lussac,  with  large  estates 
and  a  splendid  fortune,  if  you  do  not  spoil  it  by  en- 
tangling yourself  with  the  enemies  of  the  king ;  you 
have  fallen  in  love  with  a  woman  of  no  fortune,  no 
position,  an  adventuress — " 

"Cease,  Madame!"  cried  De  Lussac  violently, 
rising  from  his  seat  as  though  he  were  addressing 
an  enemy.  "Not  another  word  against  the  woman 
I  love.  Fortune,  position!  Those  words  are  blas- 
phemy against  the  holy  spirit  of  love.  Adventur- 
ess? What  care  I  if  she  is  an  adventuress?  Call 
her  what  you  will,  you  can  not  deceive  my  heart  or 


When  1  said  love,  1  said  in  that  word  all  that  love  implies  " 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION     47 

tell  me  against  my  understanding  and  my  instinct 
that  she  is  anything  but  pure." 

Actually  in  his  anger  and  defense  of  the  baroness 
this  idealist  had  almost  forgotten  her  presence  and 
the  fact  that  he  was  defending  her  against  herself. 
The  baroness,  in  amazement,  stared  at  him  as  one 
stares  at  a  prodigy.  Had  this  man,  then,  with  the 
clear  sight  of  a  passionate  and  lofty  understanding, 
divined  in  her  the  true  woman  whose  presence  she 
herself  had  not  troubled  to  search  for?  Her  life 
was  far  from  blameless,  in  the  eyes  of  strict  virtue : 
love-affairs,  money  affairs,  intrigues,  filled  the  story 
of  her  past;  yet  at  heart — the  only  consideration 
that  matters  at  all,  when  all  is  said  and  done — at 
heart  was  she  as  he  declared  her  to  be?  She  had 
never  thought  of  the  question  before.  She  looked 
at  herself  as  a  woman  of  the  world  who  had  led  the 
life  of  the  world.  Had  any  other  man  said  to  her, 
"You  are  a  blameless  woman,"  she  would  have 
laughed  in  his  face,  or,  more  probably,  smacked  it, 
taking  the  statement  as  a  piece  of  cynicism.  But 
De  Lussac  did  not  make  a  statement ;  he  enunciated 
a  fact,  he  spoke  with  all  the  fervor  of  a  man  who 
knows;  with  the  conviction  of  surety.  It  was  fas- 
cinating— fascinating  as  waking  up  on  a  December 
morning,  opening  one's  window  and  finding  May- 


48          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

day.  Madame  Linden  was  not,  however,  a  woman 
to  temporize  with  pleasant  fictions.  With  the  pleas- 
ure one  feels  in  destroying  a  fair  thing,  once  ours 
but  taken  from  us  by  fraud,  she  turned  to  her  de- 
fender. 

"Monsieur,"  said  she,  "I  have  already  had  four 
lovers." 

"And  what,  Madame,"  replied  the  disciple  of  Jean 
Jacques,  "have  those  lovers  to  do  with  me  ?  Do  you 
for  a  moment  think  that  I  belong  to  that  order  of 
men  whose  philosophy  debars  the  needs  of  life  and 
the  consideration  of  the  human  heart?  When  I  ask 
you  to  give  yourself  to  me,  I  ask  for  your  future, 
not  for  your  past  Love  is  the  water  of  life.  God 
sent  you  into  the  world  with  a  full  pitcher  to  find 
me;  that  you  have  on  the  way  given  drink  to  four 
thirsty  men,  is  that  a  reason  for  my  finding  the 
water  less  sweet?  But  this  I  will  swear,  you  have 
never  given  of  that  gift  but  for  generous  reasons." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  she,  confused  by  this  extraor- 
dinary speech,  almost  on  the  verge  of  tears,  "your 
philosophy  confounds  me." 

"Oh,  Madame,  I  am  only  the  mouthpiece  of  a 
philosopher,  the  priest  of  a  religion,  the  imitator  of 
a  man  divine  because  of  his  humanity.  What  love 
J  have  for  my  fellow-men  and  whatever  broadness 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION     49 

jof  view,  was  first  taught  and  given  to  me  by  him — 
Jean  Jacques  Rousseau." 

"And  before  such  a  priest,"  replied  the  baroness, 
"a  confession  is  useless  that  is  a  half-confession. 
What  I  have  said  to  you,  Monsieur,  is  but  the  begin- 
ning. Well,  then,  listen.  The  woman  you  would 
marry  despite  the  facts  I  have  told  you  is  a  woman 
weak  in  many  ways.  She  is  fond  of  the  material 
things  of  the  world :  of  dress,  of  gaiety,  of  pleasure ; 
she  is  spiteful  very  often  to  other  women,  and  she 
has  a  passion  for  matching  what  brains  she  has 
against  the  brains  of  men,  often  in  very  petty  ways; 
she  is  a  woman  who  does  not  brook  contradiction. 
The  man  who  marries  her  must  be  content  with  her 
love ;  her  mind  she  retains  as  her  own  property,  set- 
tled upon  her  before  marriage.  Well,  Monsieur, 
what  do  you  say  of  such  a  woman?" 

"Only  this,"  said  De  Lussac,  sinking  on  his  knees 
beside  her  and  taking  her  hand.  "Only  this:  I 
love  her." 

He  raised  the  white  tapering  fingers  to  his  lips 
and  kissed  them;  then  passing  his  arm  round  her 
waist  and  drawing  her  toward  him,  their  lips  met, 
clung  together;  they  breathed  each  other.  In  a 
moment  and  at  that  magic  touch,  the  passion  for 
him  that  had  been  slowly  gathering  in  her  heart  be- 


50         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

came  vividly  alive;  his  youth,  the  dawn  of  his  life, 
the  springtime  of  his  manhood  became  part  of  her. 
He  had  read  her  aright :  the  heart  that  no  man  had 
touched  fully  till  now  had  awakened.  The  woman 
of  the  world  was  no  longer  there.  The  world  itself 
was  forgotten — for  a  moment. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  said,  holding  him  away  from 
her  as  though  she  wished  to  gaze  at  him  and  touch 
him  at  the  same  time.  "You  have  made  me  love 
you;  you  have  spoken  to  me  of  love  as  a  priest 
might  speak  of  religion ;  let  us  pause  for  a  moment, 
even  as  we  are — would  that  we  could  always  remain 
even  as  we  are,  like  people  on  a  height  gazing  at  a 
fair  country !  Tell  me,  have  you  ever  cared  for  an- 
other?" 

For  a  moment  De  Lussac  was  silent. 

"You  do  not  answer  me  ?" 

"I  do  not  answer  you,  because  I  am  thinking  how 
strange  it  is  that  before  I  met  you  I  cared  for  an- 
other woman,  and  that  your  image  entering  my 
mind  shattered  her  image,  destroyed  it  as  a  sunbeam 
destroys  a  shadow." 

"Who  was  it?" 

"You  have  seen  her  to-day." 

"Ah!  Madame  d'Harlancourt?  You  do  not  care 
for  her  still?" 


"For  me,  she  is  not  in  the  world." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  Madame  Linden,  turn- 
ing with  a  little  cry,  found  that  Placide  had  entered 
the  room. 

"Why  did  you  not  knock?"  cried  the  baroness 
angrily.  "Is  that  the  manner  for  a  servant  to  enter 
a  room?" 

"Madame,"  replied  Placide,  "I  did  knock,  but  you 
were  so  preoccupied — " 

"Hold  your  tongue !" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Go.  But  stay — why  did  you  come?  I  did  not 
ring." 

"I  came,  Madame,  to  ask  you  at  what  time  you 
required  the  carriage  to  take  you  to  Compiegne." 

"At  two  o'clock.  Have  everything  ready.  You 
know  you  are  to  accompany  me  ?" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

He  went  out  and  the  baroness  turned  to  her  lover. 

"Fortunately,  it  was  only  Placide.  One  never 
minds  him.  And  now,  my  friend,  sit  down  beside 
me  here  on  the  fauteuil,  for  I  have  something  seri- 
ous to  say — no,  do  not  take  my  hand  until  I  have 
finished  speaking ;  then  take  it,  and  keep  it  for  ever, 
or  for  ever  leave  it.  Listen :  you  say  you  love  me." 

"I  love  you." 


52          THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"You  would  give  up  everything  for  me?" 

"I  would  give  up  my  soul." 

"I  ask  you  for  a  gift  of  far  less  value.  I  ask  you 
to  give  up  your  ambition." 

"Never, >  for  my  only  ambition  is  to  possess  you." 

"Now  you  are  talking  like  a  lover,  that  is,  a  per- 
son more  and  yet  less  than  a  man.  By  your  ambi- 
tion, I  mean  the  intrigues  against  the  state  in  which 
you  are  engaged  and  which  will  bring  you  to  ruin. 
You  wish  for  me,  and  I  am  yours,  but  only  on  the 
condition  that  you  leave  Paris  when  I  leave  it,  join 
me  in  Vienna,  and  renounce  for  ever  these  plots  and 
conspiracies  which  will  end  in  the  ruin  of  France 
and  will  include  your  own  inevitable  ruin." 

"What  you  ask  from  me  now  is  my  soul,"  replied 
the  young  man,  rising  and  pacing  the  floor. 

"Have  it  so.  I  ask  for  your  soul,  but  for  no  bad 
purpose.  I  know  you  intimately,  as  only  a  woman 
can  know  the  man  she  loves.  I  know  your  ambi- 
tion, and  I  honor  you  for  it.  I  came  here  from 
Vienna  to  study  the  state  of  France;  I  see  all  the 
elements  of  disaster,  and  ruin;  I  see  a  house  about 
to  fall,  and  I  would  pluck  you  from  the  ruins." 

"I,  whose  whole  ambition  is  to  be  one  of  the  arch- 
itects of  that  ruin !" 

"There  are  others  to  fill  your  place.     And  mark 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION      53 

this,  no  man  can  ruin  a  state,  states  ruin  themselves. 
Why  should  you,  young,  innocent,  wealthy,  with  all 
the  elements  of  happiness  in  your  heart,  why  should 
you  be  crushed  in  the  ice-jam  of  folly?" 

De  Lussac  ceased  pacing  the  floor  and  gazed  at 
her  for  a  moment,  as  if  drinking  in  her  words. 
Then  he  took  her  hand,  led  her  to  one  of  the  win- 
dows of  the  room  and  flung  it  open. 

The  sounds  of  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  all  sorts  of 
weird  cries  of  old  Paris,  filled  the  room ;  the  cry  of 
the  street  hawker  came  across  the  little  courtyard, 
the  blind  man's  pipe,  the  rumble  of  a  hackney-coach 
and  the  footsteps  of  the  passers-by. 

"That  is  why,"  said  he,  pointing  before  her. 
"Look!  Look  at  those  people;  look  at  their  faces; 
see  that  woman,  that  rag-picker  who  is  herself  a 
bundle  of  rags!  And  this  is  not  a  mean  street,  but 
the  Rue  Coq  Heron;  and  this  is  nothing  in  a  city 
given  over  to  starvation,  misery,  and  despair ;  filled 
with  a  people  whose  blood  has  been  sucked  by  a 
vampire  king  and  a  vampire  courtezan." 

She  closed  the  window. 

"To-morrow,"  said  she,  gently  leading  him  from 
it,  "those  people,  should  they  destroy  their  vampire 
king,  would  turn  vampires  themselves;  out  of  that 
gutter  another  king  would  arise  as  surely  as  another 


54         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

sun  will  dawn  to-morrow.  What  you  are  attacking 
is  not  the  evil  of  the  king  and  court  but  the  evil  that 
lies  in  the  human  heart.  By  the  fierce  overthrow  of 
the  existing  state  of  things,  will  you  alter  the  heart 
of  man?  Never,  never,  never!  No  more  than  by 
furiously  destroying  a  bad  crop  will  you  make  new 
corn  grow.  Destruction,  my  friend,  is  the  logic  of 
a  madman.  You  would  raise  the  people  by  ruining 
the  nobles,  when  your  policy  ought  to  be  to  ruin  the 
nobles  by  raising  the  people."  Then,  turning  to  the 
window,  she  paused  for  a  moment,  gazed  out  at  the 
street,  and  turned  again. 

"It  seems  to  me,  from  my  experience  of  the 
world,  that  all  conspirators  are  children.  One  can 
not  help  loving  them  as  they  beat  their  bare  palms 
on  the  door,  break  their  toys,  succeed  sometimes  in 
their  little  revolutions  which,  however,  leave  the 
great  world  somehow  the  same  as  before."  She 
came  to  him  where  he  was  sitting  with  his  face  be- 
tween his  hands,  drew  them  away  from  his  face  and 
kissed  him.  Then  taking  him  by  the  hand,  she 
talked  to  him,  talked  to  him  the  philosophy  of  hu- 
manity divorced  from  the  philosophy  of  hate,  spoke 
simply  and  truly  and  well.  With  humor  and  logic 
and  that  bell-like  voice  that  was  in  itself  an  argu- 


THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF    PASSION      55 

ment,  she  led  his  mind  as  a  child  is  led  by  a  firm  and 
gentle  hand  to  the  heights  of  her  point  of  view. 

"And  now,"  finished  she,  "choose,  my  friend, 
which  you  will  have.  Myself,  my  future,  my  love 
and  the  power  to  work  for  your  fellow-men  by  ra- 
tional methods — or  the  course  you  are  now  pursu- 
ing and  the  ruin  it  will  lead  to." 

He  stood  up,  took  both  her  hands  and  held  them 
while  he  spoke,  looking  into  her  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"For  you  I  would  deny  my  religion  and  my  coun- 
try, renounce  my  wealth  and  title,  walk  barefoot 
through  the  world  and  fling  my  soul  to  Satan,  if  by 
so  doing  I  could  buy  you  paradise." 

"Then  you  will  leave  France  with  me  ?" 

"I  will." 

"Forget  your  enmity  to  the  king?" 

"I  will,  for  you  have  shown  me  the  hatefulness  of 
personal  enmity.  Your  philosophy  will  be  my  phi- 
losophy. With  the  same  aim,  let  us  work  by  differ- 
ent methods." 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"Now  leave  me,"  she  said.  "I  have  affairs  to  ar- 
range before  I  start  for  Compiegne.  I  will  return 
to-morrow  afternoon.  Will  you  meet  me  here  at 
three  o'clock?" 


56         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"I  will  be  here.  And  your  address  at  Com- 
piegne?" 

"My  address  will  be  the  Villa  Rose  Compiegne, 
the  first  house  as  you  enter  the  town  by  the  Paris 
road." 


CHAPTER  V 
"REGARDLESS  OF  ALL  THINGS" 

A  FEW  minutes  later  the  Comte  de  Lussac  left 
the  house  of  the  baroness;  he  turned  to  the 
right  in  the  direction  of  the  Rue  Saint  Honore.  He 
did  not  see  or  notice  a  rag-picker  with  basket  and 
forked  stick  who  was  walking  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  way.  Now  the  Comte  de  Sartines,  though  he 
had  promised  Lavenne  to  give  him  a  free  hand  and 
to  leave  the  watching  of  Monsieur  de  Lussac  entire- 
ly to  him,  was  afflicted  with  that  disease  which  spoils 
so  many  lives  and  plans — mistrust. 

He  had  promised  Lavenne  to  trouble  him  with  no 
more  Gaussins ;  that  did  not  exclude  the  use  of  other 
spies,  and  so  it  came  about  that  this  morning, 
though  no  word  at  all  had  come  from  Lavenne,  a 
message  scribbled  on  a  piece  of  paper  reached  the 
Hotel  de  Sartines  about  noon.  It  ran : 

"The  Comte  de  L.  called  at  the  shop  of  Behrens 
at  half  past  ten.  At  eleven  he  left  with  the  Baroness 
L.  in  her  carriage.  They  drove  to  her  home  where 

57 


58          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

they  entered.    Carriage  was  dismissed.    He  has  not 
yet  come  out.    Will  follow  and  report." 

Signed.    JONDRIN.     (Agent.) 

The  comte,  utterly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  being  followed  and  watched,  oblivious  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  eaten  nothing  that  day  and  that  the 
hour  for  dejeuner  had  passed,  heedless  of  all  things 
earthly  but  the  sunshine,  the  opening  of  a  new  life 
before  him  and  the  fact  that  he  was  loved  by  the 
woman  he  adored,  turned  from  the  Rue  Coq  Heron 
into  the  Rue  Peysette. 

Yesterday,  even  this  morning,  this  man's  main 
objective  had  been  the  destruction  of  the  existing 
state  of  things;  up  to  his  eyes  in  a  most  dangerous 
conspiracy,  filled  with  the  blind  fury  of  the  eagle, 
his  only  idea  was  to  strike,  regardless  of  life  and 
fortune  and  even  love. 

In  an  hour  love  had  changed  his  outlook  consid- 
erably. Still  at  heart  with  the  cause  of  revolution 
the  common  sense  of  the  woman  he  loved  was  work- 
ing in  his  mind. 

"You  would  raise  the  people  by  destroying  the 
nobles,  when  on  the  contrary,  you  ought  to  destroy 
the  power  of  the  nobles  by  raising  the  people.  *  *  * 
Destruction  is  the  logic  of  the  madman." 

It  was  as  though  in  a  flash  of  genius,  she  had 


"REGARDLESS    OF   ALL   THINGS"     59 

shown  him  the  future,  blood-red  destruction  leaving 
society  altered,  but  the  human  heart  the  same. 

He  had  promised  her  to  leave  France.  He  would 
leave  it.  He  had  promised  to  break  free  from  the 
militant  revolutionary  society  to  which  he  belonged ; 
he  would  do  so  while  reserving  to  himself  the  right 
to  assist  it  with  funds,  if  on  reconsideration  of  the 
problem  with  her  she  agreed.  For  the  betterment 
of  humanity  he  would  never  cease  working.  De- 
struction, the  red  aims  of  the  men  who  were  already 
procreating  the  demon  of  the  revolution,  all  these 
were  alien  to  him  now.  Happiness,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  lifelong  happiness  with  the  woman  he 
loved,  had  cast  out  hatred  from  his  soul.  He  would 
break  free  from  the  malignant  cuttlefish  with  whom 
he  had  cast  his  lot. 

Alas!  Who  can  free  himself  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  past  acts? 

As  he  entered  the  Rue  Peysette  the  rag-picker 
entered  it  too. 

Half-way  down  the  street  he  heard  a  step  behind 
him. 

"Good  day,  Monsieur  de  Lussac." 

A  tall  dark  man,  with  a  saturnine  cast  of  counte- 
nance, a  man  well-dressed  and  carrying  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm  had  overtaken  him. 


6o         THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"Walk  beside  me,"  said  this  person,  "and  do  not 
show  any  sign  of  surprise  at  what  I  say,  or  raise 
your  voice.  I  am  being  followed.  All  is  over,  at 
least  for  the  present.  The  police  have  made  a  per- 
quisition at  the  Rue  Saint  Jacques,  Barthelmy  and 
Conflans  are  arrested.  I  as  the  head  center  am  on 
the  edge  of  arrest,  this  portfolio  is  only  a  blind,  it 
contains  nothing  of  importance,  but  I  have  with  me 
a  small  packet,  it  contains  papers  and  the  names  of 
the  committee,  their  addresses  abroad  and  in  Paris, 
and  the  seal.  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  house  to 
intrust  it  to  you." 

"I  am  leaving  Paris  for  Vienna,"  said  De  Lussac, 
shocked  at  this  hand  which  the  conspiracy  had  sud- 
denly laid  on  his  shoulder. 

"Good,  you  will  take  it  with  you  till  we  can  re- 
constitute ourselves,  but  you  must  not  keep  it  on 
your  person ;  bury  it,  hide  it,  till  you  leave,  lest  you 
should  be  arrested  and  it  be  found  on  you." 
.     "I  will  do  so,"  replied  De  Lussac. 

"But  that  is  not  all,  there  is  a  counter-stroke.  De 
Sartines,  who  has  us  in  his  power,  is  in  our  power  if 
we  can  only  act.  You  are  the  person  who  must  act 
so  as  to  free  us.  You  are  a  free  agent,  there  is  no 
evidence  against  you  and  you  are  so  highly  placed 
that  they  dare  not  arrest  you  on  suspicion  as  they 


"REGARDLESS    OF   ALL   THINGS"     61 

have  Barthelmy  and  Conflans  and  as  they  will  most 
likely  me.  Dieu!  the  perspiration  pours  from  me 
when  I  think  that  some  hand  may  be  laid  on  my 
shoulder  before  I  have  time  to  tell  you.  Listen! 
The  people  are  starving.  De  Sartines,  Terray  and 
the  king,  with  your  kinsman,  De  Richelieu  for  as- 
sistant, have  bought  up  all  the  corn  available,  using 
as  agent  a  man,  Monsieur  Porcheron  of  Vitry.  A 
contract  has  been  signed  with  Porcheron,  that  con- 
tract has  De  Sartines'  name  upon  it,  that  contract  is 
in  the  house  of  your  kinsman,  De  Richelieu,  and 
that  contract  you  must  secure.  Once  it  is  in  your 
hands  you  have  De  Sartines  in  your  power,  and  the 
release  of  Conflans  and  Barthelmy  follows :  we  can 
then  reconstitute  ourselves  and  go  on  working." 

"But  how  does  this  contract  place  De  Sartines  in 
our  power?" 

Said  the  stranger,  speaking  slowly,  patiently,  as 
if  explaining  to  a  child :  "The  people  are  starving, 
the  price  of  corn  is  rising  day  by  day.  Who  is  rais- 
ing the  price  of  corn  and  bread?  Who,  but  the  con- 
spirators of  whom  De  Sartines  is  the  chief.  They 
have  withdrawn  half  the  corn  of  France  from  the 
markets  to  sell  it  at  the  highest  figure — " 

"Dieu!"  cried  De  Lussac,  suddenly  comprehend- 
ing. "What  a  villainy !  If  this  were  proved — " 


62          THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"If  it  were  proved,  the  people  would  tear  De  Sar- 
tines  to  pieces  or  hang  him,  and  the  king,  to  save  his 
name,  would  give  them  the  rope." 

"Is  the  king's  name  upon  this  contract?" 
"There  is  no  name  but  the  names  of  De  Sartines 
and  Porcheron." 

"And  with  this  contract  in  one's  hand — " 
"De  Sartines  will  be  entirely  in  your  power." 
"Are  you  sure  it  is  in  the  possession  of  the  due?" 
"Certain,  our  agents  are  never  mistaken,  it  is  in 
his  house  at  Versailles.    Have  you  dined  with  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  lately?" 
"No." 

"If  you  had,  you  would  have  been  waited  on  by 
a  footman  of  exceptionally  good  manners  and  ap- 
pearance. He  was  one  of  us — Lamport — a  man 
you  have  never  seen;  he  was  there  to  secure  this 
document  but  he  was  arrested  last  night.  Besides 
Conflans  and  Barthelmy,  dozens  of  smaller  men 
have  been  arrested." 

"Does  the  Due  de  Richelieu  suspect  that  Lamport 
joined  his  service  in  order  to  secure  the  paper?" 

''Oh,  no,  the  corn  merchants  fancy  themselves  se- 
cure in  their  infamy  and  rightly,  for  the  thing  has 
been  done  in  most  entire  secrecy.  It  was  Porcher- 
on's  wife  who  betrayed  the  matter  to  an  agent  of 


"REGARDLESS    OF    ALL   THINGS"     63 

ours.  Love,  my  friend,  is  very  useful  in  affairs  of 
this  kind." 

De  Lussac  shuddered. 

"But  a  document  of  this  sort — how  comes  it  that 
such  a  thing  should  exist  ?" 

"How  comes  it?  Do  you  intrust  a  man  with 
millions  of  francs  to  purchase  millions  of  sacks  of 
corn  through  fifty  subagents  without  a  written  con- 
tract, without  a  receipt,  without  the  names  of  the 
subagents  and  small  corn  factors  being  mentioned? 
All  these  are  in  the  document  with  the  signature  'De 
Sartines'  to  the  statement,  'This  is  in  order.' ' 

"And  you  wish  me  to  abstract  this  paper  from 
the  house  of  my  cousin,  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  I  order  you  to  do  so." 

"Ah,  true."  De  Lussac  remembered  for  the  first 
time  fully,  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  his  chief. 
He  remembered,  for  the  first  time,  the  terms  of  his 
oath,  "to  help,  regardless  of  all  things,  and  at  the 
chance  of  death,  any  brother  under  arrest  or  in  af- 
fliction." 

There  was  no  use  in  grumbling,  there  was  no  use 
in  saying,  "To  help  these  men  I  must,  under  the 
guise  of  friendship  and  kinsmanship,  enter  the 
house  of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Richelieu  and  commit, 


64 

or  attempt  to  commit,  a  petty  theft."  The  thing 
was  horrible  and  revolting  to  his  nature  but  it  had 
to  be  done,  or  attempted.  "Regardless  of  all 
things."  He  had  sworn  to  those  words  with  his  eyes 
open  and  of  his  own  free  will.  He  never  imagined 
that  his  honor  as  a  gentleman  would  be  required  of 
him. 

"I  will  do  it,"  he  said,  pale  to  the  lips  but  speak- 
ing in  a  firm  voice. 

"The  document,"  said  the  other,  "is  presumably 
in  the  escritoire  in  the  library  of  Monsieur  le  Due. 
He  keeps  there  his  most  important  papers.  It  may 
not  be  there,  but  on  the  chance,  Lamport,  seizing  his 
opportunity,  made  a  wax  impression  of  the  key.  To 
get  at  the  key  that  man  had  to  visit  the  due's  bed- 
room at  the  risk  of  his  life,  at  dead  of  night;  to 
open  a  drawer  in  which  the  due  places  his  rings,  his 
watch,  and  his  keys;  to  take  out  a  bunch  of  seven 
keys  without  the  bunch  jingling;  to  make  a  wax  im- 
pression of  each  key,  not  knowing  which  was  the 
key  required ;  to  return  the  keys  to  the  drawer  in  ex- 
actly the  same  place,  and  leave  the  room  without 
disturbing  the  light  slumber  of  an  old  man.  This 
he  did  and  sent  the  impressions  to  us ;  the  keys  were 
made  but  before  they  could  be  sent  to  him,  last 
night,  he  was  arrested.  Think  of  the  fidelity  and 


"REGARDLESS    OF   ALL   THINGS"     65 

courage  of  this  man  who  is  now  lying  a  prisoner  at 
Vincennes.  We  are  all  in  your  hands.  I  myself 
may  be  arrested  at  any  moment.  I  suspect  that  I 
am  not  already  arrested  simply  because  they  are  giv- 
ing me  a  little  freedom  so  that  they  may  watch  my 
movements.  Now  walk  close  to  me  and  with  your 
left  hand  take  the  packet  I  spoke  of  first  and  slip  it 
into  your  pocket." 

De  Lussac  did  so. 

"Now,  take  the  keys." 

De  Lussac  did  so. 

"Bury  the  packet  somewhere  safely,  and  so  as  to 
be  doubly  sure,  send  a  note  to  Monsieur  Blanc, 
Number  3,  Rue  Petit  Versailles,  stating  that  you 
have  buried  a  packet  of  the  utmost  importance  to  us 
in  such  and  such  a  place,  so  that,  in  the  event  of 
your  arrest  or  death,  he  may  recover  it.  Yotuhave 
a  servant  you  can  trust?" 

"Yes." 

They  had  passed  through  many  streets.  The 
stranger  had  let  De  Lussac  lead  the  way,  so  en- 
grossed was  he  with  the  conversation,  and  De  Lus- 
sac had  walked  wherever  chance  might  lead  him; 
chance,  or  instinct,  perhaps,  had  led  him  by  a  maze 
of  streets  into  the  street  where  he  lived,  the  Rue  de 
Valois. 


66         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

At  this  period,  the  Rue  de  Valois  was  perhaps  the 
most  fashionable  street  in  Paris.  Here  Madame 
du  Barry  had  her  town  house  where  the  Vicomte 
Jean  du  Barry  lived  wrhen  he  chose  to  favor  Paris 
with  his  presence,  the  Comte  de  Coigny  dwelt  here, 
and  the  Comte  d'Harlancourt,  whose  residence  was 
situated  almost  opposite  to  the  Hotel  de  Lussac. 

"That  is  all,"  said  De  Lussac's  companion.  "I 
will  leave  you  here  and  pass  on,  while  you  enter  your 
house.  Remember  that  our  fates  are  all  in  your 
hands  and  the  fate  of  France,  for,  if  you  fail  to  get 
De  Sartines  in  your  power,  he  will  stop  at  nothing, 
not  even  torture,  to  extract  confessions  from  the 
men  he  has  imprisoned.  Some  one  of  them  will  be 
sure  to  confess,  giving  full  details — and  then  good- 
by  for  ever  to  the  hopes  of  the  people." 

He  raised  his  hat  and  passed  on. 

Had  any  one  been  watching,  he  might  have  fan- 
cied that  two  casual  acquaintances  had  parted,  never 
two  conspirators  who  between  them  held  the  future 
and  the  fate  of  France. 

De  Lussac,  when  the  door  opened  to  him,  passed 
into  a  glassed-in  courtyard  and  between  two  rows 
of  orange  trees  set  in  green  painted  tubs  to  the  door- 
way of  the  house. 

At  this  period,  it  was  necessary  for  a  nobleman 


"REGARDLESS    OF    ALL   THINGS"     67 

who  wished  to  keep  close  to  affairs,  to  follow  his 
king  and  to  possess  a  mansion  within  easy  distance 
of  the  king's  residence.  As  his  majesty  was  con- 
stantly changing  his  residence  from  Paris  to  Ver- 
sailles, from  Versailles  to  Marly,  and  so  forth,  it  is 
easy  to  imagine  the  drain  this  custom  imposed  on 
the  resources  of  the  nobility.  De  Lussac,  who  was 
indifferent  to  custom,  contented  himself  with  a  sin- 
gle residence  in  Paris  and  the  Chateau  de  Lussac, 
the  family  house  in  Auvergne ;  utterly  regardless  of 
the  sneers  of  the  titled  larvae,  the  brocaded  para- 
sites of  the  court  who  dubbed  him  "the  Auvergnat". 
So  he  managed  to  live  the  life  he  chose  to  live,  to 
avoid  oppressing  his  tenantry  and  to  give  largely  to 
the  poor — a  most  admirable  figure  in  a  society  cold, 
glittering,  and  as  indifferent  to  man  as  the  Jung- 
frau — without  the  Jungfrau's  purity. 

De  Lussac  had  left  the  house  of  the  baroness 
filled  with  this  kindlier  philosophy  and  outlook  on1 
life  and  lo!  half-way  down  the  Rue  Peysette  the 
revolution  had  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Now,  as  he  stood  in  his  library,  having  closed  the 
door,  he  faced  his  position. 

Philosophy  or  no  philosophy,  his  plain  course  of 
duty  lay  straight  before  him.  These  men  were  in 
prison  and  his  oath  compelled  him  to  liberate  them 


68         THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

at  all  costs.  De  Sartines  must  be  bound  in  his  own 
toils,  and  to  do  so  he,  the  Comte  de  Lussac,  must 
enter  the  house  of  his  kinsman  and  play  the  part  of 
a  petty  thief. 

He  no  longer  belonged  to  the  Society  of  the  Midi 
in  heart,  he  was  about  to  divorce  himself  from  it 
and  the  oath  he  had  taken  did  not  prevent  him  from 
leaving  it  at  will,  but  it  very  explicitly  bound  him  to 
the  course  of  action  which  the  head  center  had  just 
laid  down  for  him. 

As  he  stood  before  the  writing-table  contemplat- 
ing his  position,  the  sweat  moistened  the  palms  of 
his  hands.  He  would  have  to  ransack  De  Riche- 
lieu's bureau  like  a  common  robber,  opening  the 
drawers  with  duplicate  keys;  he  would  have  to  lie, 
and  deceive,  and  act  deception  under  the  garb  of 
friendliness  and  kinsmanship. 

For  a  moment,  despair  at  the  trap  he  found  him- 
self in  filled  his  heart.  Then  came  the  thought, 
"You  are  doing  this  for  whom?  Not  yourself. 
The  more  repugnant  to  you  the  greater  the  sacrifice. 
Be  firm." 

He  sat  down  to  the  writing-table  and  taking  a 
sheet  of  writing-paper  from  a  Spanish  cedar-wood 
box,  he  dipped  a  pen  in  ink  and  wrote  with  a  firm 
hand: 


"REGARDLESS    OF    ALL    THINGS"     69 

"To-day  I  am  burying  in  the  earth  of  the  first 
orange-tree  tub  on  the  right  as  you  enter  my  court- 
yard, a  packet  of  vital  importance  to  the  S.  de  M. 
Should  I  be  arrested  or  should  I  die  show  this  letter 
to  Jasmin,  my  valet.  He  is  entirely  to  be  trusted. 
Unearth  the  packet  and  make  use  of  it  as  your  wis- 
dom sees  fit. 

"Signed,  ARMAND  DE  LUSSAC." 

He  pushed  the  sheet  of  paper  away  and  took  an- 
other. 

He  wrote : 

".When  I  left  your  house  to-day,  fate  overtook 
me  in  the  form  of  Monsieur  de  Fleury,  the  chief  of 
the  society  to  which  I  belong.  The  police  have  vis- 
ited the  offices  of  the  society  and  arrested  many 
members.  It  is  my  duty  to  attempt  to  free  them. 
This  I  am  about  to  do.  If  I  fail,  you  will  not,  per- 
haps, see  me  again.  If  I  succeed,  I  shall  be  at  your 
house  to-morrow  at  the  hour  appointed. 
"Till  death, 

"Yours, 

"ARMAND." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room  for  a 
moment. 

Then  he  sat  down  and  folded,  sealed,  and  ad- 
dressed the  letters.  He  rang  the  bell.  It  was  an- 


70         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

swered  by  Jasmin,  the  servant  who  always  attended 
to  his  personal  wants. 

"Take  this  letter,"  said  the  comte,  "to  Monsieur 
Blanc,  Number  3,  Rue  Petit  Versailles,  see  him  per- 
sonally and  place  it  in  his  hands.  Take  this  letter 
to  Compiegne  to  Madame  la  Baronne  Linden  at  the 
Villa  Rose.  You  had  better  take  a  post-chaise  for 
the  journey.  Ask  the  house  steward  for  what 
money  you  require." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Should  Monsieur  Blanc  not  be  at  home,  do  not 
leave  the  letter  at  his  house,  wait  till  your  return 
from  Compiegne.  It  is  for  his  hands  alone." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Pack  me  all  I  require  in  the  way  of  clothes  for 
three  days'  absence,  have  the  portmanteau  placed  in 
my  traveling-carriage  and  order  the  horses  to  be  got 
ready.  I  am  going  to  Versailles  on  a  visit  to  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  de  Richelieu." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

Jasmin  retired,  leaving  the  young  man  alone. 

Turning  to  the  desk,  he  began  to  arrange  his 
papers,  burning  some  and  putting  others  in  order. 

He  knew  that  in  the  adventure  on  hand,  his  life 
would  hang  upon  a  hair,  for  Monsieur  le  Due  de 
Richelieu  was  a  gentleman  who,  if  he  failed  to  pass 


"REGARDLESS    OF    ALL    THINGS"     71 

his  sword  through  the  heart  of  a  kinsman  caught 
ransacking  his  papers,  would  inevitably  order  his 
servants  to  complete  the  business. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    BUREAU    OF    DE    RICHELIEU 

AT  two  o'clock,  Monsieur  de  Lussac,  faultlessly 
dressed,  passed  between  the  orange  trees  of 
his  courtyard  to  the  outer  door.  He  had  sent  the 
porter  back  to  the  house  for  his  gloves,  and,  taking 
advantage  of  his  absence,  he  scooped  a  hole  in  the 
mold  of  the  first  orange-tree  tub  on  the  right,  in- 
serted the  package  given  to  him  by  Monsieur  de 
Fleury,  smoothed  the  mold,  and  had  just  finished 
brushing  the  remnants  of  it  from  his  hand  with  his 
handkerchief  when  the  man  returned. 

Then,  taking  his  seat  in  the  carriage,  he  gave  his 
orders  to  the  coachman  and  they  started. 

Now,  the  rag-picker  who  had  followed  him  from 
the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  who  had  seen  him  pick  up 
Monsieur  de  Fleury — a  suspect;  who  had  seen 
him  parting  from  De  Fleury  at  his  door  and  enter- 
ing his  house,  full  of  the  importance  of  what  he  had 
seen,  instead  of  patiently  remaining  on  watch,  re- 
turned to  the  Hotel  de  Sartines  and  made  his  depo- 

72 


THE   BUREAU   OF   DE   RICHELIEU     73 

sition  to  Monsieur  Beauregard,  De  Sartines'  lieu- 
tenant. Then  he  hastened  back  and  took  up  his  post 
of  observation  at  ten  minutes  past  two,  that  is  to 
say,  exactly  six  minutes  after  De  Lussac  had  de- 
parted for  Versailles. 

By  this  fault  he  condemned  himself  to  a  whole 
evening  and  night  of  mounting  guard  over  a  house 
empty  of  its  master,  and  he  lost  Monsieur  De  Sar- 
tines a  point  in  the  game,  for  had  De  Sartines  been 
apprised  of  the  young  man's  movements,  he  would 
have  notified  his  police  in  Versailles,  who  had  a  spy 
in  every  house,  not  excepting  that  of  Monsieur  de 
Richelieu. 

It  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  and  as  they  left  Paris 
and  its  sordidness  behind  them,  De  Lussac,  lower- 
ing the  windows  of  the  carriage,  inhaled  the  air  with 
a  delight  momentary  and  banished  by  the  remem- 
brance of  what  was  on  hand. 

He  had  no  plan  of  campaign.  That  the  due, 
though  surprised  at  the  suddenness  of  his  visit, 
would  be  delighted  to  receive  him,  he  felt  sure,  for 
De  Richelieu  had  several  times  invited  him  on  a 
visit,  leaving  it  open  to  him  to  come  when  he  chose ; 
besides,  the  due  was  his  nearest  relation  and  if  De 
Lussac  died  before  him,  would  be  heir  to  the  Au- 
vergne  estates. 


74         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

He  would  have  to  give  a  reason,  however,  for  his 
visit;  that  would  be  easy  enough — nothing  to  the 
difficulties  of  a  search  for  a  carefully  guarded  paper 
in  a  house  filled,  perhaps,  with  guests. 

De  Richelieu's  mansion  was  situated  on  the  Paris 
road  on  the  left  as  one  approaches  the  palace.  The 
gates  swung  open  for  the  carriage,  which,  approach- 
ing the  front  door  by  a  courtyard,  set  with  labur- 
num and  lilac  trees,  drew  up,  and  the  Comte  de  Lus- 
sac,  ascending  the  steps  where  a  lackey  was  waiting 
to  receive  him,  passed  into  the  galleried  hall  where 
the  majordomo,  Monsieur  Beaupre,  advanced  to  re- 
ceive him. 

This  personage,  who  possessed  a  vast,  stolid,  ex- 
pressionless face  that  seemed  molded  from  white 
wax,  was  one  of  those  perfect  functionaries  who 
knew  everybody,  and  everything  about  everybody, 
everything  about  court  etiquette,  everything  about 
precedence. 

He  knew  the  Comte  de  Lussac,  his  affairs,  his  pe- 
culiar manner  of  living,  his  neglect  of  those  things 
which  were  essential  to  success  in  society,  and  the 
nickname  with  which  the  court  had  dubbed  him. 
He  despised  him  as  heartily  as  a  man  of  his  sort 
could  despise  a  man  of  De  Lussac's  sort,  but  he 


THE   BUREAU   OF   DE   RICHELIEU      75 

showed  nothing  of  his  thoughts  as  he  bowed  before 
him. 

"Good  afternoon,  Beaupre,"  said  the  young  man, 
giving  his  hat  and  gloves  to  the  servant  who  had  ad- 
mitted him.  "Is  Monsieur  le  Due  at  home?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  Monsieur  le  Due  is  at  Luciennes, 
but  I  am  expecting  him  to  return  at  any  moment." 

"Is  Monsieur  Raffe  in  ?" 

"Monsieur  Raffe  is  in  the  library,  Monsieur." 

"Ah,  the  library,"  said  De  Lussac,  his  heart  leap- 
ing at  the  words.  "Show  me  to  him." 

The  majordomo  led  the  way  across  the  hall  to  a 
door  opening  on  the  left;  he  opened  the  door  and 
disclosed  the  library  of  Monsieur  le  Marechal  Due 
de  Richelieu.  De  Lussac,  as  he  entered,  could  not 
but  feel  that  the  omen  was  with  him,  inasmuch  as 
this,  the  first  room  he  entered,  was  the  room  he  had 
come  to  plunder. 

It  was  not  very  large,  this  library  of  Monsieur  le 
Due.  It  had  only  one  window  of  stained  glass,  blaz- 
oned with  the  arms  of  the  Richelieus  and  heavily 
barred  on  the  outside — through  the  colors  of  the 
glass,  the  gray  ghostlike  shadows  of  the  bars  showed 
vaguely  and  like  a  menace. 

The  books,  chiefly  tall  folios  sumptuously  bound 


;6         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

and  stamped  on  the  backs  in  gold  with  the  Richelieu 
arms,  stood  in  open  bookcases. 

Near  the  window,  at  a  table  by  the  only  bureau  in 
the  room,  sat  a  man  engaged  in  writing.  It  was 
Raffe,  De  Richelieu's  steward,  factotum,  and  right 
hand ;  he  was  engaged  on  the  monthly  accounts,  go- 
ing over  each  bill,  item  by  item  and  sou  by  sou. 

"Why,  it  is  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Lussac,"  cried 
the  old  man,  rising  from  his  chair  and  advancing  to 
greet  the  new-comer.  "How  unfortunate  that  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  should  be  absent !  But  I  am  expecting 
him  at  any  moment." 

"It  does  not  matter,"  replied  the  comte,  "I  have 
come  on  a  visit  for  a  day  of  two,  if  my  cousin  will 
have  me;  the  air  of  Paris  has  suddenly  become  too 
much  for  me  and  I  am  suffering  from  sleeplessness. 
I  have  some  luggage  in  my  carriage ;  will  you  kindly 
have  it  seen  to?  Meanwhile,  I  will,  if  you  will  per- 
mit me,  amuse  myself  with  a  book  till  my  cousin's 
return." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  cried  Raffe,  as  he  gathered  up 
his  papers,  "I  can  assure  you  that  my  master  will  be 
only  too  delighted  at  your  visit.  I  will  have  your 
room  prepared  and  your  luggage  brought  to  it.  Can 
I  send  you  any  refreshments,  Monsieur,  after  your 
journey  ?" 


THE  BUREAU  OF  DE   RICHELIEU     77 

"No,  thank  you,  dear  Monsieur  Raffe.  I  require 
nothing  in  the  way  of  refreshment  but  a  book;  you 
know  that  I  am  a  bibliophile,  a  creature  to  whom 
the  smell  of  Russia  leather  bindings  and  the  sight  of 
printers'  ink  are  refreshment  in  themselves;  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  my  cousin  has  extended  his  library 
since  I  last  was  here." 

"Why,  yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  Raffe,  lingering 
with  the  papers  in  his  hand,  "only  last  month  he  ac- 
quired half  the  library  of  Monsieur  de  Meneval, 
books  of  amorous  adventure,  contes,  superbly  funny. 
Monsieur  may  like  to  amuse  himself  with  them; 
they  are  on  those  lower  shelves." 

He  bowed  and  passed  out  with  his  papers,  and  De 
Lussac  turned  to  the  books  of  Monsieur  de  Meneval. 

These  books  of  Monsieur  de  Meneval  were  most- 
ly illustrated,  and  were  so  piquant  that  the  mildest 
of  them  would  in  our  age  be  relegated  to  the  high- 
est and  most  inaccessible  shelves  of  a  curio  hunter's 
collection.  Indeed,  the  whole  of  Monsieur  de  Rich- 
elieu's library  might  have  been  catalogued  under 
three  divisions:  books  like  these,  books  concerning 
war,  and  books  relative  to  the  chase. 

De  Lussac,  taking  a  volume  entitled,  Les  Contes 
de  Suzane,  written  by  a  gentleman  named  Raport, 
and  bearing  the  imprimatur,  "Paris,  1732,"  laid  it 


78          THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

on  the  little  table  left  vacant  by  Raffe,  opened  it  and 
sat  down  before  it. 

The  adventures  of  Suzane,  however,  admirably  as 
they  were  described  by  Monsieur  Raport,  held  little 
interest  for  De  Lussac;  in  fact,  his  eyes  never  once 
rested  on  the  book. 

The  bureau  of  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  had  all  his 
attention,  held  his  eyes,  fascinated  him.  There  were 
six  drawers  in  it. 

In  his  pocket  was  the  bunch  of  seven  keys,  the 
exact  facsimiles  of  the  keys  of  Monsieur  de  Riche- 
lieu. Each  of  these  keys  was  different  in  size  and 
shape  from  its  fellows.  It  was  probable,  therefore, 
that  only  one  key  could  open  any  drawer  in  the 
bureau,  and  it  was  presumable  that  the  locks  were 
of  the  same  caliber.  He  took  the  bunch  from  his 
pocket.  Yes,  beyond  any  doubt  five  of  these  keys 
were  much  too  broad  in  the  barrel  and  too  heavy  of 
make  to  enter  the  lock-holes;  one  key  was  so  small 
as  to  be  quite  out  of  count — it  evidently  belonged 
to  a  trinket  case;  one  remained,  seeming  of  a  size 
exactly  suitable. 

With  the  perspiration  standing  in  beads  on  his 
forehead,  De  Lussac  rose  from  his  seat,  paused  be- 
fore the  bureau,  listening  intently  for  the  slightest 
sound  outside  and  then,  boldly  and  with  a  perfectly 


79 

steady  hand  inserted  the  key  in  the  lock  of  the  top- 
most right-hand  drawer;  it  turned  with  the  ease  of 
a  perfect  mechanism. 

De  Lussac  caught  a  glimpse  of  papers  in  the 
drawer  before  pushing  it  back  and  removing  the 
key.  Then,  rapidly  bending,  he  tried  the  middle 
drawer  on  the  left.  The  key  opened  it  also.  This 
satisfied  him.  The  key  was  the  master-key  of  the 
bureau,  all  the  drawers  opened  to  it,  and  placing  the 
bunch  in  his  pocket,  he  sat  down  again  and  began 
slowly  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  the  Contes  de 
Suzane. 

Up  till  now,  he  had  been  working  without  a  plan, 
but  now  as  he  sat,  breathing  hard  from  the  excite- 
ment of  the  last  few  minutes  and  turning  the  pages 
of  the  book,  a  plan  both  practical  and  simple  formed 
itself  in  his  brain.  He  would  wait  till  night,  then, 
while  the  household  was  asleep,  he  would  leave  his 
room,  descend  the  stairs,  enter  the  library  and  with 
the  whole  night  before  him  to  work  in,  finish  the 
vile  business  at  one  stroke. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  there  was  anything 
ominous  in  the  seeming  simplicity  of  all  this,  or  any- 
thing strange  in  the  fact  that  such  an  astute  man  as 
the  due  should  leave  his  most  important  papers  so 
carelessly  placed.  He  did  not  know  the  fact  that 


8o         THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

this  library  and  its  contents  were  guarded  with  the 
utmost  care,  and  that  Raffe  would  never  have  left 
it  had  he — De  Lussac — been  a  stranger  or  any  one 
at  all  but  a  near  kinsman  of  the  due's. 

As  he  sat  turning  the  doubtful  pages  of  the 
Contes  de  Susane,  a  voice  sounded  from  the  hall, 
the  door  opened  and  Monsieur  le  Due,  walking 
with  the  light  step  of  a  man  of  twenty,  and  dressed 
in  riding  attire,  entered  the  room. 

There  was  something  astonishing,  almost  disturb- 
ing in  the  youthfulness  of  De  Richelieu.  It  was  al- 
most impossible  to  believe  that  this  man  was  the 
conqueror  of  Mahon,  the  lover  of  women  long  dead, 
the  boon  companion  of  men  whose  very  names  were 
half  forgotten ;  a  man  whose  figure  had  become  part 
of  romance  and  history,  still  youthful,  brilliant,  and 
filled  with  the  ambitions  of  the  world. 

Raffe  alone  saw  the  real  Richelieu  as  he  appeared 
in  the  morning  before  his  valet  and  the  excitement 
of  the  day  had  transformed  him  and  awakened  to 
life  that  vast  fund  of  energy  which  was  his  chief 
possession. 

"Ah,  my  dear  philosopher,"  cried  the  due,  advanc- 
ing and  embracing  De  Lussac.  "What  a  happy 
thought  to  come  and  see  me !  Raffe  informs  me  you 
have  come  prepared  to  spend  some  days.  That  is 


THE  BUREAU  OF   DE   RICHELIEU     81 

well.  And  how  is  Paris,  and  that  dear  Monsieur 
Rousseau,  how  is  he,  as  dirty  as  ever?" 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  replied  De  Lussac,  to  whom  a 
bright  idea  had  suddenly  occurred,  "there  is  nothing 
dirty  about  Monsieur  Rousseau  except  the  mud 
which  people  fling  at  him.  I  have  not  come  to  speak 
to  you  about  him — I  have  something  much  more 
serious  upon  my  mind." 

"A  woman  ?"  asked  the  marechal,  taking  his  seat 
on  a  fauteuil  and  waving  the  other  to  a  chair. 

"No,  Monsieur,  a  man." 

"A  man?" 

"More  than  a  man — a  conspirator  against  the 
state." 

"Let  us  be  clear.  You  have  discovered  a  man 
who  is  conspiring  against  the  state?" 

"Precisely,  and  I  wish  for  your  advice.  He  is  a 
friend  of  mine.  I  have  only  to  enter  the  house  of 
a  friend  of  his,  place  my  hand  upon  a  document  in 
his  possession,  hand  it  to  the  authorities  and  he  is 
destroyed." 

"Yes,  and  why  do  you  not  do  so  ?" 

"This  friend  of  his  is  a  friend  of  mine,  Monsieur. 
I  would  have  to  enter  his  house  in  the  guise  of  a 
friend,  ransack  his  papers,  act  as  a  spy.  This  does 
not  seem  to  me  an  honorable  course  of  action." 


82          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  due,  "if  you  have  discov- 
ered a  man  who  is  conspiring  against  the  good  of 
France,  there  is  no  question  of  honor;  your  duty  is 
clear." 

"And  that  duty  is—" 

"To  denounce  him." 

"But  to  enter  a  house  under  the  guise  of  friend- 
ship!" 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  friendship  in  politics," 
replied  De  Richelieu.  "If  you  have  discovered  this 
friend  of  yours  to  be  a  scoundrel  actuated  by  mo- 
tives against  the  welfare  of  the  state,  why,  ma  foi, 
you  have  but  one  duty,  and  that  duty  is  to  the  state." 

'I  am  glad  you  think  so." 

"I  am  pleased  that  you  should  think  my  advice 
worth  asking.  Is  it  to  this  that  I  owe  the  pleasure 
of  your  visit  ?" 

"Partly,"  replied  De  Lussac,  glancing  toward  the 
bureau,  "and  partly  to  find  what  I  seek." 

"And  that?" 

"Is  rest  for  a  few  days." 

"You  will  find  it  here.  The  house  is  at  your  dis- 
posal, and  this  gentleman  whose  conspiracies  you 
wish  to  unearth — " 

"I  will  tell  you  his  name  when  my  plans  have  been 
successful." 


THE   BUREAU  OF   DE   RICHELIEU     83 

"And  I  will  tell  you  that  his  majesty  will  not  be 
indifferent  to  your  services.  Have  you  informed  De 
Sartines?" 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur,  I  wish  to  work  in  this  matter 
quite  alone  and  not  share  the  honor  of  my  discovery 
with  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

De  Richelieu  laughed. 

"Mordieu,  it  is  droll,"  said  he,  "for  mark  you — 
this  is  between  ourselves — our  dear  De  Sartines — 
hum — hum — " 

"Yes,  Monsieur — " 

"Only  this:  his  majesty  said  to  me  this  morn- 
ing, Tell  your  young  cousin  De  Lussac  that  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartines  is  quite  concerned  about  his  health.' 
You  know  the  way  his  majesty  has  of  saying 
things." 

"So  you  think—" 

"I  think  nothing.  I  just  tell  you  what  I  heard. 
Also,  as  I  was  leaving  the  palace  yesterday  evening, 
I  met  our  friend  De  Sartines.  You  see,  you  lead 
your  own  life  and  mix  yourself  up  with  these  philos- 
ophers and  people.  I  say  nothing  about  that.  If  it 
amuses  you  to  dabble  in  these  matters  it  is  nothing 
to  me,  so  long  as  you  exclude  yourself  from  the  hole 
and  corner  revolutionaries,  those  half-starved  sedi- 
tion-mongers, ballad  makers,  canaille  of  the  Rue  du 


84          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

Truand  who  hang  on  the  skirts  of  the  philosophers. 
Only  it  is  funny  to  think  that  De  Sartines  is  dis- 
turbed about  you  while  you  all  the  time — as  I  gather 
from  your  words — are  preparing  to  expose  one  of 
those  same  revolutionaries." 

"Yes,"  replied  De  Lussac,  smiling  and  with  his 
eye  cast  on  the  bureau,  "it  is  strange,  and  I  am  cer- 
tain of  one  thing:  if  my  plans  are  successful  I  can 
promise  Monsieur  de  Sartines  a  very  great  sur- 
prise." 

He  spoke  with  spirit  and  animation  and  as  though 
a  weight  had  been  taken  from  his  mind. 

The  mercilessness  of  the  marechal  and  his  chilly 
advice  had  removed  his  scruples.  If  ever  men  de- 
served the  title  of  conspirators  against  the  good  of  a 
state,  surely  it  was  these  men  who,  for  the  sake  of 
personal  gain,  were  robbing  a  hungry  nation  of  their 
food. 

"Honor!"  The  word  had  no  meaning  in  relation 
to  them ;  they  had  placed  themselves  beyond  the  pale. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WHILE  MAHON  MOUNTS  GUARD 

MONSIEUR  DE  RICHELIEU,  when  in  resi- 
dence at  Versailles,  received  largely  as  a  rule, 
but  of  late,  or  at  least  during  the  last  few  weeks,  he 
had  been  very  quiet,  receiving  few  friends,  visiting 
fewer,  but  constant  in  his  attention  at  the  functions 
of  the  court,  and  never  missing  from  the  big  and 
little  receptions,  the  levees  of  Versailles  and  the 
card-parties  of  Luciennes. 

At  this  moment,  in  fact,  things  seemed  coming  to 
a  crisis.  The  storm  which  on  Christmas  eve  seven 
months  later  would  sweep  Monsieur  de  Choiseul  and 
Monsieur  de  Braslin  into  exile  seemed  about  to 
break,  and  at  such  a  moment  a  man  could  not  be  too 
cautious,  especially  when  that  man  was  the  Due  de 
Richelieu. 

On  the  evening  of  De  Lussac's  visit,  however,  he 
had  quite  a  large  party  to  supper,  the  last  of  whom, 
no  less  a  person  than  De  Maupeou,  the  vice-chan- 
cellor, did  not  depart  till  close  on  the  stroke  of 
twelve. 

85 


86         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

De  Lussac,  bidding  his  host  good  night,  proceeded 
to  his  room  on  the  first  floor,  closed  the  door,  lighted 
the  candles  upon  the  dressing-table  and  glanced  at 
his  own  reflection  in  the  great  cheval  glass  that 
swung  in  its  bronze  frame  supported  by  two  bronze 
cherubs,  one  trampling  upon  a  tortoise,  the  other 
upon  an  asp. 

The  window  was  wide  open  and  the  warm  night 
air  entered,  bringing  with  it  a  faint  perfume  of  lilac. 
As  he  turned  from  the  mirror,  there  came  on  the 
wind  from  the  night  outside  the  stroke  of  a  clock. 

It  was  the  first  stroke  of  twelve  from  the  great 
clock  of  the  palace  of  Versailles. 

He  went  to  the  window  and,  pushing  aside  the 
curtain,  looked  out. 

The  moonlight  was  broad  upon  the  lilac  boughs 
and  the  branches  of  blossom  still  but  half-opened 
from  the  bud;  he  counted  the  strokes  of  the  clock, 
they  ceased,  and  complete  silence  took  the  night. 
He  turned  from  the  window  and  drew  the  curtain. 
The  immense  bedroom  was  hung  with  a  tapestry 
representing  Somnus  and  his  thousand  dreams — 
dragons,  beautiful  women,  chariots,  warriors,  all 
touched  vaguely  by  the  light  of  the  candles,  while 
the  great  bed  with  its  plume-decked  canopy  stood 
uninviting  as  a  tomb. 


WHILE   MAHON   MOUNTS   GUARD     87 

De  Lussac  took  his  seat  by  the  dressing-table, 
crossed  his  legs,  folded  his  arms,  and  fell  into  a 
reverie.  He  would  not  start  on  his  expedition  to  the 
library  till  one  o'clock,  so  he  had  fifty-five  minutes 
to  wait. 

As  he  sat  like  this,  reviewing  the  business  on 
hand,  a  sound  from  the  corridor  outside  brought 
him  suddenly  to  his  feet.  It  was  a  footstep,  and  the 
footstep  was  followed  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Almost  before  he  could  answer  the  summons,  the 
door  opened,  and  his  host,  attired  in  a  robe  de 
chambre  of  Chinese  silk  and  bearing  a  silver  candle- 
stick in  his  hand,  entered. 

"You  have  not  retired — good !  I  had  something 
to  say  to  you  down-stairs,  and  De  Maupeou  with  his 
long-winded  conversation  drove  it  out  of  my  head. 
That  man  has  the  art  of  making  one  forget  every- 
thing but  the  fact  that  one  is  bored." 

Monsieur  de  Richelieu  placed  his  candlestick  on 
the  table  and,  asking  permission,  took  a  chair. 

"What  I  had  to  say  to  you  was  about  the  Aus- 
trian." 

"The  Austrian?" 

"Madame  de  Linden,  yes,  the  charming  baroness 
from  nowhere.  People  are  coupling  your  names; 
have  they  any  reason  to  do  so?" 


88         THE    MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"Monsieur,"  began  De  Lussac,  with  some  tem- 
per; he  checked  himself,  and  before  he  could  re- 
sume the  marechal  went  on : 

"It  is  impertinent  of  me  to  ask  such  a  question. 
I  apologize.  There  are  affairs  that  no  man  has  a 
right  to  interfere  in,  but  I  must  tell  you  that  the 
D'Harlancourt  is  spiteful  about  the  matter  and 
nothing  would  please  her  better  than  to  do  you  an 
injury.  So  you  see  I  came  to-night  into  your  bed- 
room to  warn  you,  not  to  bore  you  with  a  lecture." 

"I  thank  you,  Monsieur." 

"Madame  la  Baronne  Linden,"  continued  the  old 
fellow,  drawing  his  robe  about  him  and  laughing  in 
a  spiteful  manner,  "has  set  all  these  women  in  arms 
against  her.  Why  ?  Mordieu,  who  can  tell  a  wom- 
an's reason?  She  is  different  from  them  for  one 
thing,  she  is  a  beautiful  woman  for  another  thing, 
and  she  has  a  tongue  like  a  poisoned  sword  for  an- 
other." 

"A  poisoned  sword,  oh,  Monsieur,"  laughed  De 
Lussac.  "It  is  very  easy  to  see  that  you  are  speak- 
ing from  hearsay,  not  from  knowledge." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  De  Richelieu,  "before  you 
were  born,  I  had  lived  fifty  years  in  the  world,  and 
in  those  fifty  years  I  learned  never  to  speak  from 
hearsay.  I  speak  from  knowledge.  Have  you  ever 


WHILE   MAHON   MOUNTS   GUARD      89 

heard  this  lady  from  Vienna  fighting  a  duel  with  her 
tongue?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  I  have  not." 

"I  have." 

"And  her  antagonist  ?" 

"Antagonists,  you  mean.  They  were  the  Princess 
de  Guemenee,  the  Comtesse  de  Coigny,  and  Chiffe." 

"The  Princesse  Victoire !" 

"Yes.  They  tried  conclusions  with  her  and  she 
left  them  binding  up  their  wounds.  A  wonderful 
woman,  but  scarcely  a  wise  one." 

"As  how?" 

"Ma  foi,  how?  Look  at  the  result!  Instead  of 
making  friends,  she  is  already  being  banned.  They 
call  her  the  adventuress;  they  have  alienated  the 
dauphiness  from  her;  they  have  set  rumors  going 
about  her ;  they  are  making  Paris  too  hot  for  her — " 

"Cats — ,"  said  De  Lussac,  "not  one  of  them  is  her 
equal  in  worth — " 

"Or  wit,  and  that  is  where  the  trouble  lies. 
Women  can  forgive  brains  or  beauty  in  another 
woman,  but  not  the  combination.  The  empty  skull 
hates  the  full  one.  Well,  there  you  are,  and  I  only 
say,  be  careful ;  for  I  tell  you  quite  frankly,  my  dear 
cousin,  that  an  amour  with  a  lady  so  beautiful,  so 
witty,  and  so — shall  I  say — unplaced  in  the  social 


90         THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

world  is  a  thing  to  be  embarked  on  with  caution.  I 
am  so  much  your  elder  that  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  be  on  your  guard." 

"Against  Madame  Linden  ?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  against  your  own  heart.  You 
are  a  man  with  opinions  of  your  own  and  very  self- 
willed,  for  which  quality  I  admire  you.  What  I 
dread  for  you  is  a  marriage  which  may  do  you  in- 
finite social  harm." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  interest  in  my  affairs,"  re- 
plied De  Lussac. 

As  he  spoke  the  words,  the  howl  of  a  dog  came 
from  the  night  outside. 

"It  is  Marechal  Turenne,"  said  De  Richelieu,  ris- 
ing to  go.  "He  guards  the  house  outside,  while 
Mahon  mounts  guard  within." 

"Marechal  Turenne — what  is  he  ?" 

"A  wolf-hound,  twin  brother  to  Mahon.  I  must 
introduce  you  to  them  in  the  morning.  Good  night, 
my  dear  Armand,  and  pleasant  dreams." 

The  old  gentleman  departed,  leaving  his  guest 
standing  staring  at  the  closing  door. 

"While  Mahon  mounts  guard  within." 

The  words  were  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  as  if  to 
give  them  emphasis,  again  from  the  night  outside 


WHILE   MAHON   MOUNTS   GUARD     91 

came  the  deep-throated  voice  of  Marechal  Turenne 
baying  the  moon. 

So  there  was  somewhere  in  the  house,  wandering 
loose,  perhaps,  a  wolf-hound. 

This  was  a  complication  he  had  not  thought  of. 
He  was  armed,  as  far  as  the  rapier  at  his  side  went, 
but  he  was  thinking  less  of  his  personal  safety  than 
of  the  fact  that  an  encounter  with  the  animal  would 
raise  the  house. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  balked,  as  a  man  stands 
before  some  insuperable  obstacle.  Then  his  knowl- 
edge of  dogs  and  their  ways  came  to  his  mind. 
Mahon  would  already  know  of  his  presence  in  the 
house,  would  have  smelt  his  traces,  would,  on  seeing 
him  fully  dressed  with  a  candle  in  his  hand,  know 
him  quite  well  to  be  a  guest,  and  would,  a  hundred 
to  one,  greet  him  as  a  friend,  not  an  enemy;  if  he 
were  an  honest  man-respecting  dog  all  would  be 
right. 

If  he  were  a  rogue,  and  among  dogs  you  find 
rogues  who,  outwardly  respectable,  will,  while 
mounting  guard  over  their  master's  property,  on 
that  pretext  kill  a  man  for  the  pure  pleasure  of  kill- 
ing a  man ;  then  everything  would  be  wrong. 

He  knew  quite  well,  too,  that  he  must  descend 


92          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

the  stairs  with  sword  undrawn,  walking  easily  and 
without  stealth.  He  knew  that  a  dog  takes  note  of 
everything,  is  a  keen  physiognomist,  and  has  an  eye 
for  deception  such  as  few  men  possess. 

He  knew  that  if  Mahon  were  on  a  chain  his  psy- 
chology would  be  quite  altered,  and  that  at  the  first 
faint  sound  of  a  footstep  he  would  rouse  the  house. 

In  that  event  detection  would  be  certain.  He 
could,  of  course,  explain  his  position  in  several 
ways ;  say,  for  instance,  that  not  being  able  to  sleep, 
he  wished  to  get  a  book  from  the  library;  still,  the 
chances  were  that  suspicion  might  be  roused. 

The  single  stroke  of  a  clock  at  a  distance  came 
from  the  night  outside.  It  was  Versailles  ringing 
the  half-hour.  He  had  intended  to  wait  till  one,  but 
the  anxiety  was  insupportable.  He  determined  to 
act  at  once. 

He  took  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand  and  left  the 
room. 

The  corridor  on  which  his  door  opened  was  lined 
with  suits  of  armor  and  trophies  of  the  chase ;  tusk 
of  boar  and  eye  of  wolf  gleamed  as  though  the 
genius  of  ferocity  in  the  masks  had  been  drawn  into 
points  of  concentration  by  the  wan  light  of  the 
candle. 

The  suits  of  armor  became  armed  men. 


WHILE   MAHON    MOUNTS   GUARD      93 

The  great  staircase  looked  twice  as  broad  as  when 
seen  by  daylight,  and  the  hall  shot  up  at  him  dimly 
in  great  masses  of  shadow,  luminous  rays  from  the 
stands  of  arms,  and  a  faint  shimmer  from  the 
parquet  of  the  flooring. 

Not  a  sound  or  sign  of  anything  living — or  sight, 
till  half-way  across  the  parquet  of  the  hall  the  light 
disclosed  the  doorway  of  the  library,  and  before  the 
doorway  a  mound  of  darkness. 

A  rolled-up  carpet  seemed  to  have  been  cast  there ; 
it  was  the  dog. 

The  great  wolf-hound  was  lying  motionless,  with 
paws  outspread  and  chin  resting  upon  them.  His 
eyes  were  wide  open  and  he  was  watching  the  man. 

He  had  seen  the  dim  glimmer  of  light,  and  on  the 
stirring  of  air  that  came  by  way  of  the  open  window 
of  the  comte's  room  had  scented  the  man  who  was 
approaching,  recognized  that  it  was  the  same  man 
whose  traces  he  had  already  perceived  mixing  with 
the  traces  of  his  master,  Monsieur  Beaupre,  Mon- 
sieur Raffe  and  the  servants,  and  that  he  belonged  to 
the  house  and,  though  a  new-comer,  was  to  be  re- 
spected. 

Then  he  lay  watching. 

As  De  Lussac  approached,  the  great  dog  heaved 
himself  up,  stretched  ever  so  slightly,  thus  showing 


94          THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

that  he  was  perfectly  at  ease  in  his  mind,  and  moved 
aside  from  the  door,  seeing  that  the  man  was  mak- 
ing for  it  and  evidently  wished  to  open  it. 

His  tail  hung  motionless ;  he  showed  neither  pleas- 
ure nor  the  reverse,  nothing  but  absolute  neutrality, 
and  politeness,  if  one  may  use  the  term. 

De  Lussac  knew  better  than  to  attempt  any  caress 
or  blandishment.  He  was  in  the  presence  of  a  noble 
and  kingly  spirit  which,  while  receiving  him  with 
severe  courtesy  as  a  guest  of  the  house,  was  not  yet 
on  terms  of  intimacy  with  him. 

Changing  the  candlestick  from  his  right  to  his 
left  hand,  he  opened  the  door  of  the  library  and  en- 
tered the  room.  The  dog  followed  close  at  his 
heels. 

He  placed  the  candlestick  upon  the  little  table, 
turned  to  the  bureau,  and  paused. 

The  dog  had  passed  him  and  taken  up  his  position 
before  the  bureau,  lying  just  as  he  had  lain  before 
the  door. 

A  chill  seized  De  Lussac.  Mahon  had  admitted 
him  to  the  library,  for  the  library  was  a  room, 
strictly  guarded  it  is  true,  yet  at  the  pleasure  of 
visitors.  But  the  bureau  of  De  Richelieu  was  not 
common  property;  no  one  might  have  to  do  with  it 
except  the  master  of  the  house.  Mahon  had  no 


WHILE   MAHON   MOUNTS   GUARD     95 

doubt  been  trained  in  this  belief.  To  put  the  ques- 
tion to  the  test  he  approached  it. 

A  sonorous  rumble  like  the  sound  of  thunder  in 
the  distance  filled  the  room. 

He  stopped  and  the  sound  ceased.  It  was  enough. 
Had  the  room  suddenly  filled  with  armed  men,  his 
defeat  could  not  have  been  more  complete. 

He  turned,  took  the  candle  and  left  the  room,  the 
dog  heaving  up  and  following  at  his  heels.  As  he 
closed  the  door  the  dog  flung  himself  down  before  it 
again,  and  De  Lussac,  crossing  the  hall,  passed  up- 
stairs to  his  room. 

His  face  was  flushed  and  burning;  shame  and 
hatred  of  the  business  on  hand  filled  his  heart.  For 
a  moment  the  nobility  of  the  dog  made  him  feel  as 
though  he  were  a  creature  on  a  lower  plane.  Then 
the  remembrance  that  what  he  was  doing  was  not 
for  himself  but  for  others  brought  things  to  their 
proper  level. 

He  would  have  to  attempt  the  business  by  day, 
evading  the  eyes  of  men,  those  creatures  far  less 
faithful  and  sagacious  than  dogs. 

One  o'clock  struck  from  Versailles  as  he  turned 
to  his  bed.  It  was  now  Wednesday,  and  to-day  at 
three  o'clock  he  had  appointed  to  meet  the  woman  he 
loved  at  her  house. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER 

NEXT  morning  the  Comte  de  Lussac  was 
awakened  by  Roche,  Monsieur  de  Richelieu's 
personal  servant.  The  man  was  carrying  a  tray 
containing  chocolate,  which  he  placed  on  a  table 
while  he  opened  the  curtains.  Then  he  withdrew. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning.  The  sunlight  and  the 
warm  air,  filled  with  the  scents  and  sounds  of  spring, 
entered  the  room  by  the  still  open  window.  A  bird 
was  singing  in  the  lilac  branches  outside. 

To-day,  at  three  o'clock,  he  was  to  meet  the 
woman  he  loved.  It  would  take  him  more  than  an 
hour  to  reach  Paris;  he  would  have  to  leave  at  a 
quarter  to  two.  It  was  now  nine  o'clock,  so  that  he 
had  but  five  hours  in  which  to  carry  out  the  hateful 
task  of  robbing  his  kinsman  so  that  he  might  save 
his  friends. 

In  that  moment  of  keen  perception  which  comes 
after  sleep,  he  saw  his  position  with  clearness.  He 
remembered  the  dog  of  the  night  before;  that  noble 


DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER  97 

head  seemed  set  before  him  to  show  him  the  depth 
of  his  own  degradation. 

At  the  thought  his  eye  fell  on  his  sword  lying  on 
a  chair  near  the  window,  and  a  wild  impulse  seized 
him  to  take  it,  place  the  point  to  his  heart  and  fall 
on  it. 

But  that  would  not  help  Barthelmy  and  Conflans 
in  the  power  of  the  merciless  De  Sartines.  He  rose 
from  his  bed,  and,  having  bathed  in  a  bath  set  in  a 
curtained  alcove,  dressed.  Then,  standing  at  the 
open  window,  he  collected  his  thoughts  and  arranged 
his  plans,  assured  only  of  one  thing :  his  determina- 
tion to  carry  the  business  through  at  whatever 
sacrifice. 

Now,  at  this  very  moment,  Monsieur  de  Sartines, 
standing  before  his  bureau  in  the  octagon  chamber 
of  the  Hotel  de  Sartines,  was  reading  a  report  just 
handed  to  him  by  his  lieutenant,  Monsieur  Beaure- 
gard. 

"So,"  said  De  Sartines,  "Madame  la  Baronne 
Linden  left  her  house  yesterday  for  Compiegne, 
taking  with  her  her  maid  and  the  servant  Placide, 
leaving  behind  her  the  cook,  who  is  the  only  occu- 
pant of  the  house  at  present, — all  this,  and  not  a 
word  from  Lavenne.  Fool  that  I  was  to  trust  him 
with  this  affair!  No  matter;  fortunately,  I  did  not 


98         THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

leave  it  entirely  in  his  hands.  Show  in  the  agent 
who  wrote  this." 

Monsieur  Beauregard  went  to  the  door,  opened  it, 
and  cried  "Blanc." 

Immediately,  on  the  summons,  a  peddler  entered 
the  room,  deposited  his  pack  on  the  floor,  bowed  to 
the  minister  of  police,  and  stood  at  attention. 

"This  is  your  report,"  said  De  Sartines.  "What 
has  become  of  Jondrin  who  was  working  with  you 
on  this  affair?" 

"Jondrin,  Monsieur,"  put  in  Beauregard,  "is  still 
shadowing  the  Comte  de  Lussac.  The  comte,  as  I 
told  you,  entered  his  hotel  yesterday,  having  parted 
with  Monsieur  Fleury,  and  has  not  yet  left  it.  Jon- 
drin is  still  watching  the  place." 

"Good,"  said  De  Sartines,  utterly  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  not  only  had  De  Lussac  left  his  hotel, 
but  that  he  was  at  the  present  moment  at  Versailles 
in  the  house  of  De  Richelieu.  "Good."  Then  turn- 
ing to  Blanc:  "Madame  la  Baronne  has  left  her 
house,  then,  in  charge  of  only  one  servant  ?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"The  cook?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"What  sort  of  servant  is  she?" 


DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER  99 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  a  terrible  woman,,  as  I  know  to 
my  cost." 

"How?" 

"Why,  Monsieur,  I  have  been  making  love  to  her. 
She  is  fifty,  with  only  one  tooth  in  front — "  this 
without  the  slightest  attempt  at  jocosity,  but  simply 
as  a  soldier  tells  of  his  hardships. 

"Is  she  practicable  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  Monsieur,  for  our  purposes ;  an  excel- 
lent woman,  entirely  unfaithful  to  her  mistress, 
whom  she  hates,  for  Madame  la  Baronne  has  a 
tongue  of  her  own,  and  uses  it  on  her  servants." 

"Good.  You  do  not  know  when  Madame  la 
Baronne  is  due  to  return?" 

"No,  Monsieur." 

"We  must  risk  it.  I  shall  search  her  house  my- 
self." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

De  Sartines  ceased  speaking  for  a  moment,  and 
paced  the  room,  deep  in  thought,  while  Monsieur 
Beauregard  and  the  agent  stood  without  a  move- 
ment, awaiting  what  was  to  come  next. 

The  minister  of  police  was  a  man  who  believed  in 
a  bold  coup  and  the  taking  of  risks.  He  had  no  di- 
rect evidence  against  De  Lussac,  but  quite  sufficient 


ioo       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

indirect  evidence  to  justify  his  arrest  on  suspicion. 
The  affair  had  been  irritating  him  for  days ;  he  had 
broken  up  the  hive  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi,  but  he 
had  not  captured  the  queen  bee;  he  had  not  seized 
important  documents;  he  felt  that  De  Lussac  held 
the  key  of  the  position.  He  determined  on  an  ex- 
plosion. 

"Go,"  said  he  to  Blanc,  "take  another  agent  with 
you,  return  to  the  Rue  Coq  Heron.  If  you  think 
this  woman  is  to  be  trusted,  tell  her  your  plans  and 
promise  her  five  louis  if  your  search  is  successful. 
Somewhere  in  that  house  there  are  papers  hidden  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  us;  of  this  I  am  certain. 
Ransack  all  the  rooms  without  leaving  a  trace  of 
your  work,  but  do  not  touch  madame's  boudoir. 
Leave  that  for  me.  I  shall  arrive  before  three 
o'clock.  Should  it  be  dangerous  for  me  to  enter  the 
house  you  can  give  me  warning  when  my  carriage 
stops  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Peysette." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  Blanc,  and  taking  up  his 
pack  he  left  the  room. 

"And  now  for  your  part  of  the  business,"  said 
De  Sartines,  turning  to  Beauregard.  "Here  is  an 
order  for  the  arrest  of  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Lussac. 
Take  it,  and  execute  it." 

"Am  I  to  arrest  him  in  his  own  house,  Monsieur?" 


DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER  101 

"No,"  replied  De  Sartines,  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "I  don't  want  a  fuss;  take  him  in  the 
street." 

"And  should  he  resist,  Monsieur?" 

"Disarm  him." 

Beauregard  saluted  the  minister,  and  turning  on 
his  heel  left  the  room,  folding  up  the  order  as  he 
went  and  placing  it  in  his  belt,  while  De  Sartines, 
taking  his  seat  at  the  bureau  and  the  lettre  de  cachet 
from  one  of  the  pigeonholes,  filled  up  the  blank 
space  with  the  name  of  the  Comte  de  Lussac.  On 
the  arrest  of  the  comte,  and  his  imprisonment  in  the 
Bastile,  Monsieur  de  Launay  would  notify  the  min- 
ister of  police  and  ask  for  guarantees,  the  lettre  de 
cachet  would  then  be  forwarded,  and  all  would  be  in 
order. 

At  twenty-nine  minutes  to  three,  precisely,  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartines  descended  the  steps  leading  to  the 
courtyard,  and  entered  his  carriage. 

The  coachman,  who  had  his  orders,  whipped  up, 
and  the  heavy  vehicle  passed  through  the  gates  and 
proceeded  at  a  rapid  pace  to  its  destination. 

At  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Peysette  it  stopped, 
Monsieur  de  Sartines  descended,  and,  having  given 
some  directions  to  the  driver,  proceeded  on  foot 
down  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  walking  slowly. 


102        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

The  gate,  leading  to  the  courtyard  of  Number  12, 
was  ajar.  He  pushed  it  open,  entered,  passed  up  the 
steps  to  the  front  door  and  rang.  Almost  immedi- 
ately the  door  was  opened  by  Blanc. 

"Well?''  said  the  minister  of  police,  as  he  pro- 
ceeded across  the  hall  to  the  stairs,  followed  by  the 
agent,  "Any  news?" 

"The  search  is  still  going  forward,  Monsieur,  but 
we  have  discovered  nothing  yet." 

"How  many  agents  have  you  at  work?"  asked  De 
Sartines,  ascending  the  stairs  as  though  the  house 
were  quite  familiar  to  him,  as,  indeed,  it  was. 

"Three,  Monsieur." 

"Good,"  said  De  Sartines,  opening  the  door  of  the 
boudoir.  "You  can  go  and  help  them,  and  at  the 
least  sign  of  danger  give  me  warning.  There  is  a 
back  way  leading  into  the  Rue  Martell." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  and  I  have  stationed  agents  at 
the  end  of  the  Rue  Peysette,  and  both  ends  of  the 
Rue  Coq  Heron,  to  give  us  news  should  madame 
return.  They  know  her  carriage." 

"How  are  they  to  give  warning?" 

"By  a  blast  of  a  whistle,  Monsieur." 

"Good !  A  blast  on  a  whistle,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  Rue  Peysette  is  long,  and  the  Rue  Coq 
Heron  not  short ;  at  that  distance — " 


DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER  103 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  said  Blanc,  with  the  satisfied  air 
of  a  man  who  has  foreseen  everything,  "one  of  the 
top  windows  is  open,  and  at  that  window  I  have 
placed  Valmajour,  who  has  the  ears  of  a  hound,  and 
who  could  pick  out  the  police  whistles  from  all  the 
noises  in  Paris,  even  though  they  were  blown  at 
twice  that  distance." 

"You  have  done  your  business  well,"  said  De 
Sartines,  as  he  entered  the  boudoir  of  Madame 
Linden,  while  Blanc,  delighted  at  this  praise  from  a 
master  who  rarely  praised,  hurried  down-stairs  to 
superintend  the  doings  of  his  subordinates. 

De  Sartines,  when  he  entered  the  boudoir,  stood 
for  a  moment  glancing  about  him  as  though  he 
wished  to  surprise  the  spirit  of  the  place.  He  noted 
the  bureau  in  one  corner,  the  flowers  in  the  vase  be- 
tween the  windows,  the  ornaments  upon  the  mantel, 
a  fan  that  had  been  cast  and  forgotten  upon  the 
fauteuil.  He  was  a  past  master  in  the  game  of  hide- 
and-seek,  and  had  Madame  Linden  been  a  man  he 
would  have  directed  his  search  toward  carpet  edges  ; 
he  would  have  investigated  the  curtains,  all  those 
places  where  a  man  might  secrete  documents  of  a 
compromising  nature;  but  he  knew  the  instinct  of 
woman  for  a  lock  and  key ;  were  papers  to  be  found 
here  they  would  be  found  most  probably  in  some 


104        THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

secret  drawer  of  the  bureau,  so  he  turned  to  it  first 
He  had  all  the  implements  for  scientific  lock-pick- 
ing in  his  pocket,  but  no  use  for  them,  as  he  found, 
to  his  disgust,  that  all  the  drawers  were  open. 

There  were  four  drawers  to  the  bureau.  Three 
were  empty,  and  one  was  half  filled  with  old  letters 
and  documents. 

He  removed  the  three  empty  drawers  first,  and 
with  the  rapidity  and  science  of  a  skilled  cabinet- 
maker examined  them  and  the  spaces  he  had  drawn 
them  from  for  secret  caches;  then  he  replaced  them 
without  finding  what  he  sought,  and  did  the  same  to 
the  fourth  drawer,  with  a  like  result.  He  examined 
the  pigeonholes,  and  with  a  little  tape  which  he  took 
from  his  pocket  measured  their  depth,  contrasting 
them  with  the  depth  of  the  bureau,  and  all  with 
such  lightning-like  rapidity  that  in  less  than  five 
minutes  he  knew  the  thing  as  well  as  though  he  had 
made  it,  and  could  say  with  scientific  certitude, 
"There  is  no  secret  repository  here,  no  cache  for 
anything  bigger  than  a  wafer." 

Then  this  man  of  many  parts,  courtier,  politician, 
maker  of  epigrams,  with  the  swiftness  of  a  clerk  in 
his  official  bureau,  and  the  dexterity  of  a  conjurer, 
began  to  read  and  examine  the  papers  in  the  last 


DE  SARTINES  OPENS  THE  LETTER  105 

drawer  in  such  a  manner  that  when  he  had  finished 
not  one  would  be  out  of  place. 

There  were  bills,  receipted  and  unreceipted  letters, 
chiefly  from  women  friends  in  Vienna ;  letters  from 
men,  love-letters  dated  three  years  back,  a  ballad 
against  himself — De  Sartines — and  a  host  of  other 
papers,  all  unimportant.  The  last  letter  he  opened 
was  from  a  milliner,  and  it  contained  a  pattern — a 
tiny  snippet  of  gray  material,  triangular,  and 
scarcely  an  inch  long.  He  was  glancing  at  the  letter 
when  a  sharp  tap  came  to  the  door,  and  Blanc  ap- 
peared. 

"Monsieur,  madame  is  arriving.  The  signal  has 
been  given." 

"Peste!  Go,  get  the  others  away.  I  will  follow 
you." 

He  folded  the  letter,  replaced  it  in  the  drawer, 
closed  the  drawer  and  left  the  room. 

Fate  was  against  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  who  un- 
consciously had  committed  two  grave  blunders, 
almost  inexcusable  in  a  man  of  his  carefulness  and 
genius. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK 

SHORTLY  after  three  the  carnage  of  Madame 
Linden  turned  into  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  and 
drew  up  at  Number  12.  The  courtyard  was  not 
large  enough  to  admit  a  vehicle,  and  the  cook,  who 
acted  also  as  concierge,  on  hearing  a  ring  at  the  gate, 
would  open  by  pulling  a  cord  which  connected  the 
gateway  with  the  kitchen  premises ;  the  visitor  would 
then  cross  the  courtyard  to  the  front  door,  where 
Rosine  or  Placide,  if  he  were  about,  gave  them  ad- 
mittance. 

Madame  Linden  entered  and  followed  by  Placide, 
who  was  carrying  her  traveling-bag,  passed  up  the 
stairs  to  the  first  floor. 

She  was  carrying  a  great  bunch  of  hothouse  flow- 
ers which  she  had  bought  at  the  florist's  in  the  Rue 
St.  Honore,  just  by  the  passage  giving  entrance  to 
the  little  Rue  du  Mont  Thabor,  and  having  placed 
these  on  the  center-table,  she  ordered  Placide  to 
fetch  her  a  bowl. 

1 06 


"And  madame's  traveling-bag?"  asked  the  old 
fellow. 

"You  can  place  madame's  traveling-bag  in  ma- 
dame's  room.  Go,  and  let  me  see  how  young  your 
legs  can  be." 

She  spoke  to  Placide  very  often  as  one  would 
speak  to  a  child.  His  age  permitted  it ;  besides,  he, 
like  herself,  was  an  original. 

She  turned  from  the  table  to  the  clock  on  the 
mantel ;  it  pointed  to  eighteen  minutes  past  the  hour. 
Then  she  passed  to  the  nearest  window,  looked  out 
at  the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  and  frowned. 

De  Lussac  had  promised  to  meet  her  here  at  three 
o'clock ;  he  was  eighteen  minutes  late.  The  fact  that 
she  herself  was  late  for  the  appointment  did  not 
occur  to  her;  the  lateness  of  De  Lussac  was  wholly 
inexcusable,  unless  something  had  happened  to 
him. 

As  she  turned  from  the  window  her  eye  caught 
sight  of  something  on  the  floor  by  the  bureau;  it 
was  a  handkerchief.  She  crossed  over  to  it,  picked 
it  up,  and  gave  a  little  cry  of  surprise. 

It  was  a  man's  handkerchief,  a  square  of  delicate 
Chinese  silk,  bearing  in  a  corner  a  coronet  and  an 
undecipherable  monogram  embroidered  in  cardinal 
red. 


io8        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

As  she  stood  with  it  in  her  hand  Placide  entered 
the  room,  a  Sevres  bowl  in  his  hand. 

"Placide,"  said  Madame  la  Baronne,  "what  is 
this?," 

Placide  put  the  flower  bowl  upon  the  table. 

"Ma  foi"  said  he,  "it  is  a  handkerchief." 

"Dolt, — of  course  'tis  a  handkerchief,  but  how 
did  it  come  here?  What  is  it  doing  here?  Who 
dropped  it  ?" 

Without  answering  her,  Placide  took  the  hand- 
kerchief, looked  at  it  closely  and  examined  the 
monogram.  As  he  did  so  an  exclamation  of  surprise 
escaped  from  him.  Then  he  laughed. 

"Ma  foi,"  said  he.    "What  a  fool !" 

"Well?" 

"Madame,"  said  Placide,  "I  have  been  in  your 
service  but  a  very  few  days,  but  in  those  days  I  have 
learned  one  thing — that  you  trust  me." 

"Well?" 

"Madame  does  not  know  that  trust  is  the  greatest 
compliment  a  master  can  pay  to  a  servant.  I,  as  an 
old  servant  who  has  been  in  many  places,  can  appre- 
ciate that  compliment,  and  in  return  for  it  I  will  do 
you  a  service  by  giving  you  a  piece  of  advice." 

"Well?" 

"My  advice,  Madame,  is  to  be  on  your  guard ;  you 


are  surrounded  with  spies  and  enemies.  I  would 
even  say  to  you,  do  not  leave  for  Vienna  to-morrow 
or  next  day,  but  to-night." 

The  baroness  listened  to  this  extraordinary  speech 
seemingly  quite  unmoved,  but  her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Placide  as  though  in  him  she  were  trying  to  read 
the  riddle  of  this  strange  advice. 

"And  why?" 

"Madame,"  said  Placide,  "this  is  the  handkerchief 
of  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

"The  lieutenant  of  police?" 

"Yes,  Madame,  the  lieutenant  of  police." 

"And  how  do  you  know  Monsieur  de  Sartine's 
handkerchief?" 

Placide  laughed.  "Madame  forgets  that  I  am  an 
old  Parisian  servant.  I  was  in  the  service  of  Ma- 
dame de  Stenlis  a  month ;  in  the  service  of  Madame 
d'Harlancourt  for  a  week;  with  Madame  de  Greux 
till  I  left  her  to  better  my  morals ;  with  Madame  de 
Gervais  till  I  had  no  morals  left.  Here  I  found  the 
handkerchief  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  under  a  chair, 
here  under  a  bolster." 

"Do  you  dare  to  say — " 

"Oh,  Madame,  I  say  nothing  against  your  honor. 
Monsieur  de  Sartines  is  compounded  of  a  minister 
of  police  and  a  man  of  gallantry.  It  was  not  the 


i io        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

man  of  gallantry  who  left  this  handkerchief  lying 
by  your  bureau — " 

"But  the  minister  of  police?" 

"I  fear  so,  Madame." 

"Who  came  in  my  absence  to  spy  upon  me  ?" 
•  "I  fear  so,  Madame." 

"Why  should  I  dread  the  minister  of  police?" 

"Why  should  all  Paris  dread  him,  Madame?" 

"I  have  nothing  to  conceal." 

"Perhaps  madame  has  friends.  I  speak  only  for 
madame's  safety,  but  in  these  times  one's  friends 
are  sometimes  one's  greatest  enemies." 

Madame  Linden  paused  for  a  moment  in  thought, 
then  she  broke  out. 

"It  can  not  be.  He  is  a  gentleman,  a  noble.  He 
* — to  come  here  as  a  common  spy.  Impossible! 
Impossible!  To  me,  accredited  to  the  court  of 
France — to  me.  Impossible!  Impossible!  He  must 
have  called.  Margot  must  have  admitted  him;  she 
is  stupid,  and  perhaps  showed  him  up  here.  Go 
down  and  ask  her.  Quickly !" 

Placide  left  the  room  and  madame,  placing  the 
handkerchief  on  the  table,  turned  to  the  bureau  and 
opened  the  top  drawer. 

"No,  everything  is  in  order.  Impossible!  Im- 
possible !" 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK       in 

Almost  mechanically  she  had  taken  the  top  letter 
from  among  the  papers  in  the  drawer,  opened  it 
and  glanced  at  the  writing.  It  was  from  a  working 
dressmaker,  to  whom  she  had  intrusted  the  altera- 
tion of  a  gown,  inclosing  a  pattern  of  the  lining  for 
madame's  approval. 

"Ma  foi"  said  she,  "I  had  forgotten  this.  I 
should  have  written  to  say  that  the  color  was  correct, 
and  now,  without  doubt,  the  dress  will  not  be  fin- 
ished in  time  before  I  leave  Paris.  But  where  is  the 
pattern  of  the  lining?"  The  letter  was  just  a  square 
piece  of  paper  folded  after  the  fashion  of  the  time. 
It  had  been  fastened  by  a  wafer.  She  distinctly  re- 
membered replacing  the  tiny  pattern  in  the  folded 
paper;  what,  then,  had  become  of  it?  It  was  no 
longer  in  the  letter. 

She  cast  her  eyes  about,  and  there,  on  the  floor, 
lay  the  incriminating  pattern. 

She  stooped,  picked  it  up,  and  at  that  moment 
Placide  entered  the  room. 

"Madame,"  said  Placide,  "Margot  knows  nothing 
of  the  matter."  He  ceased,  and  stood  staring  at  his 
mistress.  It  seemed  to  him  that  she  had  changed, 
become  another  woman;  an  elder  sister  of  herself. 
He  glanced  at  the  open  bureau  drawer. 
"Madame  has  been  robbed  ?" 


112        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Robbed!  I  have  been  outraged.  My  papers 
have  been  tampered  with,  my  letters  opened.  Oh, 
mon  Dieu!  That  perfumed  policeman;  that  spy  in 
the  coat  of  a  minister;  picklock,  thief!  Wait!  Oh, 
wait  and  we  shall  see !  I  will  go  to  the  king.  I  will 
apply  to  the  dauphiness."  She  flung  herself  on  the 
fauteuil  and  sat,  leaning  sidewise,  beating  the  floor 
with  her  foot,  pale  to  the  lips,  just  as  if  anger  had 
picked  her  up,  flung  her  there  and  stunned  her. 

She,  who  had  always  been  accustomed  to  men's 
homage,  to  be  treated  like  this  by  a  great  noble,  a 
minister  of  state,  a  man  whom  she  had  seen  at  court 
and  admired  for  his  handsome  face  and  magnificent 
presence!  That  she  should  be  suspected  was  noth- 
ing, the  fact  that  a  government  spy  had  tampered 
with  her  letters  was  nothing,  but  the  thought  that 
De  Sartines  had  done  this  thing  in  person  filled  her 
with  such  a  fury  that  for  a  moment  the  power  of 
thought  was  destroyed. 

Placide  stood  watching  her,  afraid  to  move,  afraid 
to  speak.  Then  he  saw  the  color  returning  to  her 
cheeks ;  her  eyes,  expressionless  and  fixed  a  moment 
ago,  became  bright,  the  hard  look  passed  from  her 
face,  and  the  handkerchief  which  she  had  plucked 
from  her  breast,  and  which  she  had  been  twisting  in 
her  hands,  fell  on  the  parquet  of  the  floor  unheeded. 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF   SILK        113 

Placide  coughed,  but  she  did  not  hear  him;  she 
seemed  plunged  in  thought  of  an  exciting  nature; 
her  lips  moved.  Then,  suddenly,  she  looked  up. 

"Ah,  you  are  there — good.  Go  to  Rosine  and  tell 
her  she  need  not  go  on  with  the  packing  of  my 
things.  I  shall  not  leave  Paris  just  at  present.  Go 
to  Vaudrin  and  countermand  the  horses  I  have  or- 
dered for  my  carriage.  Then  come  back  to  me  at 
once." 

"But,  Madame!" 

"Yes." 

"All  arrangements  have  been  made  for  your  jour- 
ney. When,  then,  will  madame  leave  ?" 

Madame  Linden  laughed. 

"I  will  leave  when  I  have  settled  my  account  with 
Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

"Oh,  mon  Dleu!"  said  Placide. 

"When  I  have  brought  him  on  his  knees ;  when  I 
have  made  him  cry  for  pardon,  and  pay  for  his  in- 
famy;  then  I  shall  leave,  and  not  an  hour  before." 

The  old  servant,  who  knew  Paris  so  well  and  the 
power  of  De  Sartines,  was  about  to  make  some  re- 
mark when  she  cut  him  short  and  waved  him  from 
the  room. 

"Go!  I  wish  for  no  more  words  on  the  matter. 
When  you  have  executed  my  orders  return  to  me." 


ii4        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

He  left  the  room,  and  as  he  closed  the  door  her 
eyes  fell  on  the  clock  on  the  mantel;  it  indicated 
twenty-five  minutes  past  three.  The  remembrance 
of  De  Lussac,  banished  from  her  mind  for  a  mo- 
ment, returned  only  to  increase  her  exasperation. 
Had  he,  too,  played  her  false?  Her  mind,  logical 
enough  in  the  affairs  of  the  head,  was  of  that  imag- 
inative order  which  becomes  feverish  and  illogical 
in  affairs  of  the  heart.  For  a  moment  she  almost 
hated  the  man  she  loved.  His  failure  to  keep  his 
appointment  seemed  to  her  a  direct  corollary  of  the 
insult  offered  to  her  by  De  Sartines.  Ah!  these 
Parisians,  were  they  all,  then,  the  same — flatterers, 
false  gentlemen,  nobles  on  the  outside,  lackeys  at 
heart? 

Even  as  she  asked  herself  the  question  the  door- 
bell sounded,  Rosine's  voice  came  from  below,  an- 
other voice,  and  then  a  step  on  the  stairs. 

A  knock  came  at  the  door  of  the  boudoir;  it 
opened  and  disclosed  De  Lussac. 

He  was  pale,  exhausted,  disheveled  and  covered 
with  dust ;  he  carried  his  hat  in  one  hand,  a  riding- 
whip  in  the  other,  and  as  he  stood  before  her,  seized 
with  a  momentary  vertigo,  he  dropped  the  whip  and 
clung  to  the  door  for  support.  In  a  moment  she  had 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK       115 

seized  him,  and,  supporting  him,  led  him  to  the 
f auteuil,  where  he  sat  down. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said.  "I  am  late,  but  I  killed 
a  horse  on  the  road.  It  is  nothing — " 

"Man  Dien!"  she  cried,  "nothing — to  be  in  this 
state?  Do  not  move  or  speak  till  I  come  back." 

She  ran  from  the  room  and  returned  in  a  moment 
with  some  wine  and  food  on  a  tray. 

"When  did  you  eat  last?" 

"This  morning,  no — last  night — " 

"This  morning,  no — last  night'!  Why,  that  is 
the  answer  of  a  woman;  and  you  are  a  man,  and  a 
man  without  food  is  useless  as  a  child.  You  are  a 
big  child.  No,  not  a  word  till  you  have  finished 
what  is  on  this  tray." 

She  held  it  while  he  ate,  watching  the  color  com- 
ing back  into  his  face  and  the  life  into  his  eyes. 

"And  now,"  said  she,  "you  may  speak.  Wait  till 
I  place  this  tray  upon  the  table — so." 

She  placed  it  upon  the  table,  and  drawing  a  chair 
beside  him,  sat  while  he  told  his  story.  He  told  all 
that  we  know:  How  he  had  met  the  chief  of  the 
Society  of  the  Midi;  how  he  had  journeyed  to  Ver- 
sailles to  abstract  the  De  Sartines  document  from 
the  house  of  his  kinsman,  the  Due  de  Richelieu;  how 


n6        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

the  dog  had  foiled  him,  and  how,  on  awakening  that 
morning,  he  had  felt  such  despair  at  the  business  in 
hand  that  the  impulse  came  on  him  to  throw  himself 
upon  his  sword. 

"However,"  said  he,  "I  remembered  that  what  I 
was  doing  was  not  for  myself." 

"And  why,"  said  she,  interrupting  him,  "why 
should  you  not  have  done  just  the  same  for  your- 
self? Ma  fol,  in  dealing  with  these  rogues  the  vilest 
weapons  are  justifiable,  and  it  is  only  by  such 
weapons  we  can  meet  them.  Here  are  men  who  are 
starving  the  poor  to  feed  their  own  pockets,  men 
who  embastilc  their  enemies,  and  leave  them  to  rot 
in  prison;  men  who  enter  a  woman's  house  and 
search  her  papers,  read  her  letters;  men  without 
mercy,  without  heart,  without  conscience.  These 
men  must  be  met  with  their  own  weapons,  as  I  hope 
to  prove  to  Monsieur  de  Sartines  before  he  is  very 
much  older.  But  go  on,  my  poor  friend ;  you  are  a 
poet,  a  man  of  kindly  heart,  a  gentleman  of  the  old 
knightly  school;  you  do  not  understand  these  trick- 
sters in  the  least  Go  on,  and  tell  me  what  happened 
then." 

"I  had  decided,"  went  on  De  Lussac,  "that  noth- 
ing could  be  done  while  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  was 
in  the  house.  I  did  not  see  him  the  whole  morning; 


Xo,  not  a  word  until  you   have   finished   what   is  on  this  tray" 


he  was  engaged,  it  seems,  with  his  secretary  in  his 
own  apartments.  But  at  dejeuner  he  appeared,  and 
you  may  imagine  my  relief  on  hearing  him  order  his 
carriage  to  be  got  in  readiness  immediately  after 
the  meal  to  take  him  to  the  Due  de  Choiseul's.  He 
was  very  gay,  and  so  rilled  with  his  own  affairs  that 
he  did  not  notice  my  nervousness  or  want  of  appe- 
tite, and  when  he  had  departed  I  went  to  the  library, 
telling  the  servants  not  to  disturb  me,  as  I  had  some 
important  work  to  do. 

"It  was  after  one  o'clock ;  the  house  was  as  silent 
as  the  tomb;  neither  dog  nor  man  was  there  to  op- 
pose me,  and  I  set  to  work." 

The  sweat  started  in  beads  on  De  Lussac's  fore- 
head while  he  paused,  as  if  contemplating  the  ter- 
rible adventure  of  the  day. 

"You  must  remember  that  at  any  moment  Raffe, 
or  the  majordomo,  or  even  one  of  the  servants  who 
are  so  forgetful  of  orders  might  have  opened  the 
door ;  and  I  had  to  open  drawer  after  drawer  to  its 
full  extent,  examine  each  paper  they  contained,  and 
replace  them.  I  have  never  felt  afraid  before,  but 
while  carrying  out  this  business  I  was  filled  with 
terror  and  stupefaction.  I  worked  mechanically, 
and  like  a  man  working  in  a  dream ;  had  any  one  en- 
tered I  should  have  run  my  sword  through  his  heart, 


ii8        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

replaced  the  papers,  hidden  my  disgrace,  and  then 
destroyed  myself.  It  was  this  thought  that  gave  me 
courage. 

"And  among  all  these  papers  there  was  not  a  sign 
of  the  document;  it  was  by  the  merest  accident  I 
found  it  at  last." 

"You  found  it!" 

"Wait — yes,  I  found  it,  behind  a  secret  panel  of 
the  top  right-hand  drawer,  a  panel  the  existence  of 
which  I  discovered  by  a  chance  which  seems  mirac- 
ulous. 

"The  thing  ought  to  belong  to  the  history  of  the 
world,  so  that  men  might  see  the  depth  of  infamy 
that  man  can  descend  to. 

"It  contains  the  names  of  fifty-six  corn  brokers, 
the  amount  of  corn  each  of  these  has  delivered,  the 
amount  of  money  paid  him.  The  receipt  for  the  corn 
is  signed  by  De  Sartines,  the  receipt  for  the  money 
by  the  master  broker. 

"All  this  corn  has  been  bought,  to  be  sold  at 
thrice  its  purchased  price  to  a  starved  market  and  a 
starving  people." 

"But  Monsieur  de  Richelieu — why  did  he  hold 
the  document  ?" 

"He  is  the  king." 

"The  king?" 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK        119 

'The  king's  intermediary;  half  of  the  money  for 
the  purchase  of  the  corn  has  been  supplied  by  the 
king.  De  Richelieu  is  the  king's  business  man  in 
the  affair;  his  watch-dog  over  the  rapacity  of  De 
Sartines  and  Terray,  who  was  the  inventor  of  the 
scheme." 

"Mon  Dieu!  and  this  document?" 

"Wait.  I  was  seated  with  the  open  drawer  be- 
fore me,  the  document  in  my  hand,  amazed  by  my 
success,  amazed  by  the  infamy  of  these  men,  when, 
outside,  suddenly  sounded  sharp  and  clear  the  voice 
of  my  cousin,  De  Richelieu.  In  a  flash  I  folded  the 
document,  placed  it  on  top  of  the  papers  in  the 
drawer,  closed  the  drawer,  unable  to  lock  it  because 
I  had  taken  the  key  from  the  lock,  and,  rising,  was 
in  the  act  of  taking  a  book  from  one  of  the  shelves 
when  the  door  opened  and  the  due  entered,  followed 
by  Raffe,  bearing  a  pile  of  books  and  papers.  De 
Choiseul,  it  seems,  had  been  away  from  home;  can 
you  conceive  such  bad  luck?  The  due  seemed  still 
in  splendid  humor,  and,  evidently,  he  suspected 
nothing ;  he  rallied  me  for  staying  in  the  house  when 
the  weather  was  so  glorious  outside,  and,  as  I  turned 
from  the  shelves,  book  in  hand,  he  passed  to  the  bu- 
reau and  sat  down  before  it,  while  Raffe  spread  its 
top  with  the  books  and  papers. 


120        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"  'These  are  my  half-yearly  accounts/  said  the 
due.  'Raffe  and  I  are  going  over  them  together, 
and  I  fear  it  will  take  us  till  supper-time.  A  weary 
business,  and  I  fear  we  shall  disturb  you  in  your 
reading.' 

"At  that  moment  my  eye  fell  on -the  clock,  which 
stands  on  a  little  table  near  the  window,  and  I  saw 
that  it  marked  three  minutes  to  two.  I  remembered 
my  appointment  with  you.  I  had  forgotten  it  for 
a  moment.  I  told  my  kinsman  that  I  would  leave 
him  to  his  accounts,  went  to  the  stable,  borrowed  a 
horse  and  killed  him  half  a  league  from  Paris.  I 
ran  the  half -league.  I  had  not  spared  the  horse ;  my 
only  excuse  is  that  I  did  not  spare  myself." 

"And  you  have  left  this  document  lying  upon  the 
other  documents  in  the  right-hand  top  drawer  of 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu's  bureau?" 

"Yes." 

"Why  did  you  not  thrust  it  into  your  pocket  ?" 

For  answer,  De  Lussac  turned  and  showed  her 
the  pockets  of  his  coat,  pockets  with  heavily  em- 
broidered flaps,  making  it  a  work  of  difficulty  even 
to  insert  one's  hand. 

"The  drawer  was  open  before  me,"  said  he; 
"nothing  was  easier  than  to  place  the  paper  in  it  and 
close  it." 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK        121 

"And  you  have  left  the  drawer  unlocked?" 

"Yes;  I  had  no  time  to  lock  it." 

"And  Monsieur  le  Due  is  sitting  there  now  doing 
his  accounts  and  at  any  moment  he  may  require 
some  paper  or  other,  take  his  keys  from  his  pocket, 
insert  one  in  the  lock  and  find  that  the  drawer  is 
already  unlocked.  That  will  mean  suspicion,  search 
and  discovery." 

"Precisely.  But  the  chances  are  that  he  will  go 
on  with  his  accounts.  One  must  sometimes  trust  to 
chance." 

"True,"  said  Madame  Linden,  "and  you  came  all 
the  way  back  to  see  me,  killed  a  horse,  nearly  killed 
yourself — " 

"Yes;  and  I  would  have  come  twice  the  distance 
and  killed  two  horses  for  one  glance  from  your 
eyes." 

He  drew  her  to  him  and  their  lips  met. 

"And  now,"  said  she,  "you  are  going  back?" 

"Yes.  My  work  is  easy  now.  If  Monsieur  de 
Richelieu  has  discovered  nothing,  I  shall  simply 
have  to  wait  for  a  moment  alone  in  the  library,  open 
the  drawer,  take  from  it  the  document,  and  close  the 
drawer  again.  Then  you  may  be  sure  that  with  it 
in  my  possession,  I  will  not  be  long  in  returning  to 
Paris,  and  then — " 


"And  then?" 

"Woe  to  De  Sartines." 

"Woe  to  De  Sartines,"  she  cried,  echoing  his 
words  with  a  little  laugh.  "Confusion  to  De  Sar- 
tines !  You  have  your  plan  against  him,  and  I  have 
mine."  She  rose,  took  from  the  table  the  handker- 
chief, which  De  Lussac  had  not  noticed,  and  placed 
it  in  her  pocket.  The  plan  which  she  had  formu- 
lated against  the  minister  of  police  was  of  such  a 
nature  that  she  did  not  care  to  discuss  it  with  the 
man  she  loved.  This  strange  woman  had  no  scru- 
ples in  her  dealings  with  the  unscrupulous,  no 
mercy  in  her  dealings  with  the  merciless,  no  pity  for 
the  pitiless.  Yet,  for  the  poor  she  was  all  charity, 
and  for  those  who  loved  her  and  whom  she  loved 
her  fidelity  was  deathless.  Her  quarrel  with  De 
Sartines  was  her  own  affair ;  she  had  determined  to 
match  him  with  his  own  weapons.  No  one  had  to 
do  with  this  little  business,  not  even  De  Lussac,  the 
man  she  loved. 

She  turned  from  him  for  a  moment,  opened  her 
dress,  and,  taking  from  her  breast  the  letter  she  had 
received  from  him  the  night  before,  handed  it  to 
him. 

"This  is  your  letter;  you  had  better  destroy  it. 
Had  anything  happened  to  you  be  sure  I  would  have 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK       123 

unearthed  the  packet  you  spoke  of,  and  revenged 
you  afterward." 

"The  packet?"  said  De  Lussac.  "I  said  nothing 
about  a  packet  to  you."  He  opened  the  folded  paper 
and  read:  "To-day  I  am  burying  in  the  earth  of 
the  first  orange-tree  tub  on  the  right  as  you  enter 
my  courtyard,  a  packet  of  vital  importance  to  the 
S.  de  M.— " 

He  read  no  further. 

"But  this  is  the  letter  I  wrote  to  Monsieur  Blanc. 
I  wrote  two  letters,  one  to  you  and  one  to  him — " 
He  turned  the  paper  over,  and  there,  on  the  back, 
in  his  own  handwriting,  was  the  address : 

Madame  la  Baronne  Linden, 
Villa  Rose, 

Compiegne. 

"Heavens! — what  a  mistake!  I  folded  the  let- 
ters, sealed  them,  and  then  wrote  the  addresses.  See, 
I  have  directed  his  letter  to  you,  and  yours — " 

"To  him,"  said  she,  laughing.  "Poet,  dreamer — 
what  a  wretched  conspirator  you  make!  And  was 
there  anything  compromising  to  your  Sophie  in  this 
letter  misdirected  to  Monsieur  Blanc?" 

"Nothing.  I  only  spoke  of  my  meeting  with 
Monsieur  de  Fleury,  and  of  the  business  in  which 


124        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

it  involved  me,  so  that  you  might  know,  if  I  failed 
to  keep  our  appointment,  that  it  would  not  be  my 
fault." 

"Good,"  said  she,  "and,  fortunately,  your  letter  to 
Monsieur  Blanc  came  safely  to  me,  for  if  it  had 
fallen  into  the  wrong  hands  you  would  have  been 
compromised,  indeed."  She  said  this,  little  knowing 
the  effects  that  would  follow  on  his  error,  and  De 
Lussac,  equally  unconscious,  folded  the  paper  and 
placed  it  in  his  pocket.  He  was  crimson  at  his  own 
stupidity. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "while  fortune  seems  favoring 
us,  is  the  time  to  act;  I  shall  return  to  Versailles;  if 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu  has  discovered  the  open 
drawer  it  will  lead  to  questions.  I  can  not  lie,  though 
it  seems  I  can  steal.  I  shall  tell  him  he  is  a  scoun- 
drel, and  he  will  tell  me  I  am  a  thief.  I  shall  pass 
my  sword  through  his  heart,  and  he  will  pass  his 
through  mine.  Bon  Dieu!  I  am  beginning  to  have 
no  scruples  in  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  nor  care 
for  anything  but  you." 

He  turned  to  her  and  embraced  her. 

"And  I  shall  see  you  again  ?" 

"Here,"  said  she.  "I  have  altered  my  plans,  and 
shall  not  leave  Paris  as  soon  as  I  had  intended.  I 
have  some  business  to  do  first.  You  will  come  here 


THE  HANDKERCHIEF  OF  SILK       125 

at  once  if  you  are  successful,  will  you  not?     The 
door  of  my  house  is  like  my  heart  for  you — " 

"How?"  asked  he,  her  hands  in  his. 

"It  is  open  day  and  night." 


CHAPTER   X 

A   MAN    WITH    FOUR   IDEAS 

HE  left  her  house  and,  turning  to  the  right, 
passed  down  the  street,  walking  hurriedly, 
and  heedless  of  the  people  about  him. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  in  leaving  the  house  of  his 
kinsman  and  journeying  to  Paris  to  meet  the  wom- 
an he  loved,  he  had  committed  a  grave  error.  It  is 
true  that  while  De  Richelieu  was  in  his  library  noth- 
ing could  be  done,  and  that  the  due,  engaged  on  the 
heavy  half-yearly  accounts  of  his  estates,  would  be 
there,  perhaps,  till  the  evening;  still  he  should  not 
have  left  such  a  desperate  business  to  develop  un- 
attended. He  felt  this,  now,  as  he  thought  of  the 
five  leagues  separating  him  from  Versailles,  and  he 
walked  swiftly,  making  by  the  shortest  cuts  for  the 
Rue  de  Valois. 

His  plan  was  to  return  home,  take  the  swiftest 
horse  from  his  stables  and  ride  back  to  Versailles. 
He  would  have  to  account  for  the  horse  he  had 
killed;  this  would  be  an  easy  matter;  he  could  say, 

126 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          127 

simply,  that  he  had  left  it  in  Paris,  as  it  was  unfit 
for  the  return  journey.  Walking  swiftly,  and  en- 
gaged in  these  thoughts,  he  did  not  notice  that  he 
was  being  followed  till  a  voice  from  behind  made 
him  start  and  turn. 

"Good  day,  Monsieur  le  Comte." 

It  was  Monsieur  Beauregard,  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines'  lieutenant. 

Monsieur  Beauregard  was  a  man  of  that  magnifi- 
cent type  which  seems  to  have  been  left  to  the  Latin 
races  as  a  legacy  by  the  Roman  consuls.  Aquiline- 
nosed,  heavy-jawed,  imperious,  his  face,  but  for  the 
mustache  and  imperial,  might  have  been  copied  by 
nature  from  some  coin  of  the  Caesars.  Yet,  it  was 
a  full-blooded  face  and  kindly  withal;  the  face  of 
a  man  who  eats  and  sleeps  well,  and  is  successful  in 
life  and  love.  He  was  a  terrible  lady-killer,  this 
Monsieur  Beauregard. 

"Ah,  good  day,  Monsieur  Beauregard." 

De  Lussac,  though  a  very  brave  man,  face  to  face 
with  this  charming  lieutenant  of  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines',  felt  his  lips  suddenly  become  dry  as  pumice- 
stone,  and  unconsciously  exhibited  that  fatal  sign 
which  betrays  the  nervous  and  the  guilty — he  mois- 
tened them. 


"What  weather !"  said  Beauregard.  "It  might  be 
June." 

De  Lussac  assented,  and  they  walked  on  together. 

"Are  you  walking  far?" 

"Only  to  my  house,"  replied  De  Lussac,  "and 
you?" 

"Oh,  ma  joi"  said  Beauregard,  "it  seems  I  am 
walking  with  you,  going  in  the  same  direction.  It 
is  good  to  walk  through  Paris  on  such  a  pleasant 
evening  as  this." 

A  cold  hand  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  the  heart  of 
De  Lussac.  Was  this  an  arrest?  He  knew  that 
against  a  man  of  his  rank  no  common  police  agent 
would  be  used ;  he  knew  that  the  gallant  Beauregard 
was  most  nice  in  his  methods.  He  knew  the  charac- 
ter of  Beauregard — a  perfect  gentleman,  a  good- 
hearted  soldier:  a  man  with  four  ideas — woman, 
duty,  wine  and  food — and  all  the  more  terrible  just 
because  of  this  simplicity. 

"It  is  strange,"  said  De  Lussac,  "that  I  should 
meet  you  accidentally  like  this,  and  that  our  ways 
should  lie  together." 

"Oh,  ma  foi,  not  so  strange,"  replied  the  other, 
"for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  my  dear  Monsieur  De  Lus- 
sac, I  have  been  looking  for  you." 

"Looking  for  me  ?" 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          129 

"Yes,  and  delighted  to  find  you  looking  so  well. 
This  is  the  Rue  de  Valois ;  why,  'tis  but  a  step  from 
the  Rue  Coq  Heron ;  and  there,  as  I  live,  is  my  car- 
riage." 

Not  far  from  the  house  of  De  Lussac,  drawn  up 
by  the  pavement,  stood  a  closed  carriage  heavily 
built,  dark-colored  and  without  crest  or  coat  of  arms 
on  the  door  panels.  Two  powerful  Mecklenburg 
horses  were  in  the  traces,  and  upon  the  box  sat  a 
coachman  in  a  plain  livery. 

"Ah,"  said  De  Lussac,  "you  drive  in  a  closed  car- 
riage on  such  a  fine  evening  as  this.  Well,  Mon- 
sieur, I  can  not  commend  your  choice." 

"I  am  not  following  my  choice,  but  my  duty, 
Monsieur,"  replied  Beauregard,  "and  though  my 
carriage  is  a  closed  one,  and  the  evening  is  fine,  I 
must  ask  you  to  take  a  drive  with!  me ;  that,  too,  is 
my  duty." 

De  Lussac  stopped  and  faced  his  companion. 

"Monsieur  Beauregard,"  said  he,  "let  us  drop 
dissimulation.  You  arrest  me?" 

"You  have  said  the  word,  Monsieur  de  Lussac, 
not  I." 

"By  whose  order,  may  I  inquire,  has  this  thing 
been  done?" 

"Monsieur,"   replied  Beauregard,   "all   this   falls 


130       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

under  the  orders  of  the  day.  It  is  not  my  duty  to 
give  explanations,  but,  speaking  unofficially,  as 
Monsieur  Beauregard  to  Monsieur  de  Lussac,  I  may 
say  that  one  man  only,  save  his  majesty,  has  power 
to  give  me,  orders,  and  that  man  is  Monsieur  de 
Sartines." 

"And  if  I  resist?" 

"Resistance  would  be  useless,  Monsieur;  besides, 
you  have  noticed  that  on  my  part  I  have  said  noth- 
ing of  a  disagreeable  nature ;  I  have  not  even  shown 
you  the  warrant  which  I  hold  in  my  belt.  Dealing 
with  a  common  man  I  would  have  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and  he  would  have  resisted,  no  doubt, 
but  I  have  treated  you  as  a  gentleman,  and  gentle- 
men do  not  create  vulgar  brawls." 

De  Lussac's  hand  fell  unconsciously  on  his  sword 
hilt. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Beauregard,  in  a  stern  voice, 
"in  the  courtyard  of  the  Hotel  d'Harlancourt,  op- 
posite there,  I  have  stationed  three  armed  men,  the 
coachman  on  the  box  carries  arms,  my  agents 
block  both  ends  of  the  street ;  think  twice  before  ap- 
pealing to  force." 

De  Lussac  cast  his  eye  on  the  Hotel  d'Harlan- 
court; at  one  of  the  upper  windows  a  woman  who 
had  been  gazing  out  withdrew  hurriedly,  but  not 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          131 

before  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face.  It  was 
Madame  d'Harlancourt. 

Without  another  word  he  turned  to  the  carriage ; 
followed  by  Beauregard,  he  entered  it,  delivered 
up  his  sword,  and  the  coachman,  whipping  up  his 
horses,  they  started. 

Partly  stunned  by  the  blow  that  had  fallen  on 
him,  De  Lussac  for  some  time  did  not  even  glance 
through  the  windows  to  see  what  direction  they 
were  taking. 

By  his  indiscretion  in  returning  to  Paris  he  had 
lost  the  game,  he  had  sacrificed  Barthelmy  and  Con- 
flans,  he  had  sacrificed,  most  probably,  his  own  life 
and  the  love  which  had  suddenly  come  to  him,  mak- 
ing life  a  thing  to  be  desired.  Monsieur  de  Riche- 
lieu would  undoubtedly,  before  the  morrow,  find 
that  his  bureau  had  been  tampered  with,  and  would 
fix,  rightly,  the  blame  on  him.  All  hope  of  help 
from  that  quarter  was  gone. 

But  all  these  considerations  were  eclipsed  by  the 
thought  of  how  near  he  had  been  to  success,  and 
how  far  he  had  flung  success  away  by  his  weakness. 

The  paper  had  been  in  his  hands ;  it  was  there  for 
the  taking.  Had  he  only  waited!  But  sure  of  be- 
ing able  to  see  the  woman  he  loved  and  to  return  be- 
fore the  due  had  finished  his  work  with  Raffe,  he 


132       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

had  gone  off  and  left  Fortune  unattended.  For- 
tune does  not  take  insults  like  these  without  resent- 
ing them. 

So  he  argued,  utterly  unknowing  himself,  or  the 
fact  that  the  mainspring  of  the  motive  that  had 
driven  him  to  Paris  was  less  Madame  Linden  than 
the  deep  unrest,  the  nerve  strain  that  made  move- 
ment imperative;  made  it  absolutely  necessary  that 
he  should  leave  the  house  of  De  Richelieu,  where, 
for  the  time  being  nothing  could  be  done. 

Then,  with  an  effort,  he  shook  off  this  paralysis 
of  mind  which  had  seized  him,  and  glanced  through 
the  window  of  the  coach. 

They  were  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore  passing  east- 
ward, that  is  to  say,  in  the  direction  of  the  Rue  St. 
Antoine  and  the  Bastile.  The  carriage,  leaving  the 
Rue  St.  Honore,  passed  down  a  street  parallel  to 
the  Rue  des  Halles,  entered  the  Rue  St.  Antoine, 
and  pursued  its  eastward  course.  De  Lussac,  though 
burning  with  the  question  that  was  in  his  mind,  re- 
mained dumb.  He  was  afraid  to  ask  their  destina- 
tion lest  his  voice  should  betray  his  emotion.  That 
the  Bastile  would  prove  the  end  of  their  journey 
he  felt  certain. 

More  certain  still  was  he  when  they  passed  the 
church  of  Petit  St.  Antoine  on  the  left,  the  Fon- 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          133 

taine  St.  Catherine  and  the  Rue  Beautrellis.  As 
they  passed  the  Hotel  de  Mayenne,  De  Lussac,  press- 
ing his  face  to  the  window  and  glancing  upward, 
saw,  cutting  the  sky,  a  tower  gray  with  age,  and 
touched  by  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  It  was 
the  northernmost  tower  of  La  Bastile. 

Half  a  minute  later  the  carriage  stopped,  and  De 
Lussac  heard  the  voice  of  the  coachman  answering 
the  challenge  of  the  sentry.  They  had  reached  the 
drawbridge  giving  entrance  to  the  courtyard  of  the 
fortress. 

Where  the  Rue  St.  Antoine  met  the  outer  en- 
girdling wall  of  the  Bastile  it  narrowed,  skirted  the 
wall,  and  gave  exit  from  Paris  by  the  Port  St.  An- 
toine, an  arch  gateway  with  three  gates  opening  on 
the  Rue  de  la  Contrescarpe.  Immense,  gloomy,  gray, 
facing  the  west  with  four  towers,  facing  the  east 
with  four  towers,  fronting  Paris  like  an  eternal 
menace,  backed  by  the  Fosse  de  L'Arsenal,  the  Rue 
de  la  Contrescarpe,  the  wood-yards  and  fields  lead- 
ing to  the  Hotel  des  Mousquetaires  Noirs,  the  for- 
tress of  the  Bastile  stood,  at  once  a  stronghold  and  a 
symbol. 

La  Force  was  as  gloomy,  Vincennes  as  strong.  In 
the  ancient  chatelet  men  had  been  far  more  bar- 
barously used  than  in  the  Bastile.  That  may  be,  but 


134       THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

the  Bastile  it  was  that  rode  the  imagination  of  the 
people ;  on  that  burning  July  day  when  the  fever  of 
the  Revolution  rose  to  a  crisis  it  was  the  Bastile 
that  the  people  attacked.  It  was  the  concretion  in 
stone  of  all  the  evil  of  all  the  kings  of  France,  and 
their  monument.  The  very  market  porters  felt 
this. 

De  Lussac,  an  imaginative  man,  shared  the  feel- 
ing of  the  people,  and  as  the  carriage  rumbled  across 
the  drawbridge,  it  seemed  to  him  that  in  the  growl 
of  the  wheels  he  heard  the  voice  of  the  Bastile,  ven- 
tral, deep,  fatal  to  hope,  indifferent  as  the  voice  of 
a  jailer. 

"So!  another  prisoner;  pass  him  on." 

They  passed  through  a  courtyard,  and  were  again 
checked  by  sentries.  De  Lussac  could  hear  their 
harsh  voices  as  they  challenged,  and  the  coachman's 
reply  as  he  showed  his  permit,  and  drove  on  through 
a  gateway,  and  across  another  courtyard  to  a  door- 
way. 

This  doorway,  the  main  entrance  for  prisoners, 
possessed  a  door  iron-studded  and  a  foot  thick.  It 
stood  half  open,  and  guarded  by  sentries  who  were 
already  apprised  of  the  entrance  of  the  carriage,  and 
as  Beauregard  descended  and  gave  his  arm  to  his 
prisoner  the  sentries  presented  arms,  and  from 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          135 

somewhere  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  fortress  came 
the  hoarse  clanging  of  a  bell. 

It  was  the  bell  that  announced  to  turnkeys  and 
sentries  the  arrival  of  a  prisoner.  At  its  sound  all 
corridors  would  be  cleared,  prisoners  returning 
from  exercise  would  be  hurried  along  to  their  cells, 
the  governor  would  be  summoned,  and  the  clerk 
who  had  to  deal  with  the  books  of  the  prison.  De 
Lussac,  following  Monsieur  Beauregard  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  sentry,  passed  along  a  stone  corridor  to 
a  door  barred,  bolted  and  studded  with  nail-heads 
each  as  big  as  a  child's  fist.  A  turnkey,  who  had  al- 
ready removed  the  bars  and  slid  the  bolts,  opened 
the  door,  and,  as  they  passed  through,  it  closed  be- 
hind them,  and  the  clang  of  the  bars  replaced  came 
faintly  and  in  a  muffled  manner  speaking  of  the 
door's  thickness  and  strength. 

This  corridor  which  they  had  entered  was  faintly 
lighted,  and  led  to  the  room  of  audience,  where  pris- 
oners were  received  by  the  governor,  and  it  was  in 
this  corridor  that  De  Lussac  encountered  something 
more  depressing  than  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  the 
strength  of  the  doors,  or  the  gloom  of  the  corridors. 
It  was  the  smell  of  the  Bastile. 

La  Bastile  had  a  faint  and  poisonous  breath  of 
her  own  that,  once  encountered,  endured  in  the 


136        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

memory  for  ever;  whether  from  fungus  in  the  cel- 
lars, oubliettes,  and  dungeons  far  below  the  fortress, 
or  simply  from  the  very  antiquity  of  the  stone  and 
mortar,  who  can  say,  but  the  faint  tomb-like  odor 
remained,  ineradicable  as  the  evil  of  her  builders. 

De  Launay,  the  governor,  was  absent,  and  Mon- 
sieur Vitry,  the  deputy  governor,  filled  his  place. 
He  was  seated  at  a  desk,  and  close  to  him,  bending 
over  a  huge  book  placed  on  another  desk,  was  the 
clerk  whose  duty  it  was  to  enter  the  name  of  the 
prisoner,  his  station  in  life,  his  offense  and,  what 
was  of  most  importance  to  the  unfortunate,  the  re- 
marks of  the  authorities  about  him.  These  secret 
reports,  unseen  by  the  prisoner,  unseen  by  all  but 
God,  the  governor  and  the  clerk,  were,  in  them- 
selves and  of  their  own  nature,  an  infamy.  By  vir- 
tue of  them  a  man  might  be  held  for  ever;  or  at 
least  until  his  death,  a  prisoner  lost  and  forgotten. 
It  did  not  matter  in  the  least  that  his  family  were 
starving,  that  his  wife  and  his  loved  ones  were  in 
despair ;  the  secret  report  cared  nothing  for  this. 

He  might  hope  against  hope,  see  the  spring  cast  a 
brighter  beam  of  light  on  his  wall,  feel  that  with  the 
warm  breath  of  summer  through  the  bars  of  his 
window  release  must  surely  come.  The  secret  writ- 
ing in  the  book  below  held  him  in  its  wizard  spell. 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          137 

"Very  dangerous — to  be  kept  in  the  strictest  con- 
finement." 

Governors  might  change,  kings  die,  the  man's 
very  offense  be  forgotten,  but  through  the  gloomy 
days  of  winter,  the  bright  days  of  spring,  those 
words  would  hold  him  prisoner  still,  unjudged  and 
forgotten. 

When  the  Bastile  was  destroyed  men  were  found 
like  this,  some  of  them  idiotic.  Tavernier  could  not 
remember  for  what  he  was  imprisoned.  He  had 
forgotten  himself  as  completely  as  the  authorities 
had  forgotten  him. 

De  Lussac  watched  the  face  of  Monsieur  Vitry, 
who  was  finishing  a  letter  on  which  he  was  engaged, 
and  who  did  not  even  glance  up.  He  had  seen  De 
Launay,  the  governor,  but  he  had  never  till  this  met 
Monsieur  Vitry,  who  was  the  type  of  Monsieur 
D'Estrelles,  and  the  prototype  of  the  modern  bu- 
reaucrat. 

Monsieur  Vitry  finished  the  last  line  of  his  letter, 
signed  it,  sanded  it,  and  folded  it — all  with  the  pre- 
cision of  mechanism — addressed  it,  and  placed  it  in 
the  tray  on  his  desk,  struck  a  bell,  pointed  to  the 
letter  when  a  soldier  answered  the  summons,  and 
ordered  the  man  to  take  it  to  its  destination. 

It  was  a  letter  relative  to  some  defect  in  the  new 


138        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

uniforms  of  the  Swiss,  a  trifle,  but  just  as  important 
to  Monsieur  Vitry  as  the  fate  of  De  Lussac. 

Then  he  turned  his  face,  pale,  narrow,  and  seem- 
ing even  narrower  by  reason  of  the  heavy  wig  he 
wore,  upon  the  new-comers. 

He  bowed  to  Beauregard,  who  returned  the  salu- 
tation, glanced  at  De  Lussac  and  took  a  paper  from 
the  table.  It  was  the  lettre  de  cachet  which  we  have 
seen  the  king  handing  to  De  Sartines  in  blank. 

Just  before  Beauregard  accosted  De  Lussac  he 
signed  to  an  agent  who  was  following  him,  and  the 
agent  had  started  hotfoot  for  the  Hotel  de  Sar- 
tines, received  the  lettre  de  cachet  and  conveyed  it 
to  the  Bastile. 

It  had  arrived  a  few  minutes  before  the  prisoner. 

"You  are  the  Comte  Armand  Jean  de  Lussac?" 
said  Vitry. 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  that  is  my  name." 

"Residing  in  the  Rue  de  Valois?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Good,"  said  Vitry. 

He  rose  from  his  desk,  passed  over  to  the  clerk, 
bent  with  him  over  the  big  volume,  talked  for  a 
moment  in  an  undertone  and  then  returned  to  his 
desk,  where  he  sat  down,  striking  the  bell  as  he 
did  so. 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          139 

A  turnkey  entered. 

"Third  Bertaudiere,  number  23,  corridor  number 
7,"  said  Vitry,  handing  the  man  a  slip  of  paper  on 
which  he  had  been  scribbling. 

The  turnkey,  paper  in  hand,  turned  to  De  Lussac ; 
but  before  he  could  speak  the  comte  made  a  step  to- 
ward Vitry's  desk. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  arrested,  I 
have  been  brought  here,  and  it  seems  I  am  to  be  im- 
prisoned. I  have  only  one  question  to  ask.  Why 
has  this  been  done?" 

"Monsieur,"  replied  Vitry,  "all  questions  and 
complaints  must  be  addressed  to  the  governor,  Mon- 
sieur de  Launay." 

"When  can  I  see  the  governor?" 

"When  ?  To-morrow,  perhaps ;  but  it  is  not  nec- 
essary for  you  to  see  him;  questions  or  complaints 
can  be  addressed  to  him  in  writing." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  unfortunate  young  man. 
"I  am  then  imprisoned  without  reason  given,  and  I 
may,  perhaps,  see  the  governor  to-morrow.  O, 
Monsieur,  beware  of  what  you  do!  An  injustice 
like  this  is  a  crime.  I  ask,  simply,  what  I  have  done 
that  I  should  be  seized  like  this  and  imprisoned,  and 
you  give  me  an  answer  which  is  no  answer.  You 
refuse  to  tell  me." 


140       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

The  man  of  parchment  at  the  desk  turned  to  the 
jailer  who  had  now  opened  the  door. 

"Number  23,  corridor  number  7,"  he  said. 

"Follow  me,"  said  the  jailer. 

De  Lussac  looked  round  him  as  though  he  were 
looking  for  sympathy  or  help.  Then,  with  a  gesture 
impossible  to  describe,  he  followed  the  officer.  In 
the  corridor  some  one  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 
It  was  Beauregard. 

"Courage,  my  friend,"  said  the  big  man,  "your 
case  may  not  be  so  bad  as  you  suppose.  You  have 
always  your  kinsman,  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  to  fall 
back  upon." 

That  was  the  last  straw,  and  De  Lussac  scarcely 
heard  Beauregard  saying  good-by,  as  the  lieutenant 
of  De  Sartines  turned  away  bound  for  light  and 
air  and  freedom,  leaving  his  charge  to  follow  the 
jailer. 

This  personage,  who  wore  the  semi-uniform  of 
the  state  prisons  and  carried  at  his  belt  a  heavy 
bunch  of  keys,  led  the  way  along  the  corridor  till 
they  reached  a  door,  iron-studded  and  made  hideous 
by  a  lock  of  enormous  size,  and  of  such  a  compli- 
cated nature  that  it  took  the  jailer  a  full  minute  in 
opening,  yet  there  were  locks  in  the  Bastile  so  com- 
plicated, constructed  with  such  horrible  ingenuity, 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          141 

that  it  would  take  at  least  five  minutes  to  master 
them. 

The  jailer  held  the  door  open  for  De  Lussac  to 
pass  through,  and  they  ascended  a  circular  stone 
staircase.  The  walls  of  this  place  were  fungus- 
grown  and  still  showed  stains  caused  by  the  torches 
of  the  archers,  arbaletrlers,  and  musketeers  of  past 
ages ;  the  steps  were  tread-worn  by  the  feet  of  gen- 
erations of  prisoners,  guards  and  jailers. 

They  passed  through  another  corridor  till  they 
reached  a  stairway. 

It  led  to  another  corridor,  half-way  down  which 
the  jailer  halted,  took  the  bunch  of  keys  from  his 
belt  and  opened  a  door. 

De  Lussac  saw  before  him  a  square  stone  cell 
lighted  by  a  window,  high  placed,  and  protected  by 
heavy  iron  bars.  A  bed  stood  in  one  corner,  a 
table  in  the  center,  and  a  chair  by  the  table.  A 
pitcher  of  water  stood  upon  the  table. 

There  was  no  other  furniture  at  all. 

As  he  stood  for  a  moment  before  entering  this 
place,  suddenly,  from  away  down  the  corridor  came 
the  ghost  of  a  voice ;  high-pitched,  cracked  and  faint 
as  though  strained  through  some  microscopic  open- 
ing. It  was  singing  the  verse  of  a  song  common  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  some  twenty  years  before.  De 


142        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

Lussac,  shivering,  entered  the  cell,  drew  the  chair 
from  the  table  and  sat  down. 

"Your  supper  will  be  brought  to  you  at  eight," 
said  the  turnkey,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "Should 
you  care  t6  pay  you  will  be  well  served;  you  can 
even  have  wine.  What  money  have  you  ?" 

"I  do  not  want  wine.  Bring  me  paper,  pens  and 
ink." 

"Paper  and  pens — what  for  ?" 

"I  wish  to  write  to  the  governor." 

"That's  what  they  all  say,"  replied  the  man  in  a 
grumbling  voice.  "Well,  if  it  amuses  you,  you  can 
have  your  paper  and  pens,  but  they  cost  money." 

De  Lussac  took  a  louis  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  to  the  jailer. 

"That  will  pay  you.    When  can  I  have  them  ?" 

"At  eight  o'clock." 

"But  I  must  have  them  at  once." 

"Patience,"  replied  the  jailer. 

He  glanced  round  the  cell  in  a  perfunctory  man- 
ner, went  out,  and  shut  the  door.  With  the  closing 
of  the  door  came  the  click  of  the  lock,  and  then 
absolute  and  perfect  silence. 

The  prisoner  could  not  even  hear  the  footsteps  of 
his  jailer  retreating  down  the  corridor.  Like  the 
fortress  of  Saint  Peter  and  Saint  Paul,  which  still 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          143 

exists  to  the  shame  of  civilization,  the  Bastile  had 
one  supreme  and  crowning  terror,  its  silence. 

Silence  had  been  built  into  the  place  by  the  ma- 
sons who  labored  at  those  walls  thirty  feet  thick. 
Silence,  old  as  the  times  of  Louis  XI.  Silence,  com- 
plete and  steadfast  like  this,  has  a  personality,  at 
least  during  the  first  few  hours  of  one's  acquaint- 
ance with  it.  It  seems  to  be  listening  and  at  the 
same  time  observing  one.  De  Lussac,  fresh  from 
the  sounds  of  the  streets,  and  the  voices  of  people, 
sat  for  a  little  while  without  moving,  listening, 
scarcely  breathing. 

Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  up  and  down 
the  cell  trying  to  find  refuge  in  thought.  But  his 
thoughts  were  enough  to  drive  a  strong  man  to 
despair.  He  saw  De  Richelieu  sitting  at  his  bureau 
engaged  in  his  accounts.  De  Richelieu  would,  in 
the  course  of  the  next  few  hours,  inevitably  find  the 
drawer  open,  and  the  infamous  document  lying  on 
the  other  papers.  He  would  know  to  a  certainty 
,nat  he — De  Lussac — had  opened  the  drawer,  found 
the  document,  and  worst  of  all,  read  it. 

It  was  a  secret  that  concerned  the  honor  of  the 
king,  as  well  as  De  Sartines,  and  that  meant  im- 
prisonment for  ever  for  De  Lussac. 

Then  the  vision  of  Sophie  Linden  rose  before 


144        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

him;  the  woman  who  had  shown  him  what  a  fair 
thing  life  is  to  those  who  love. 

"God!"  cried  the  unfortunate,  as  he  looked 
around  him  at  the  mean  and  sordid  cell,  the  walls  of 
granite  blocks  four  feet  square,  the  bed,  the  bare 
table,  the  hole  in  the  wall  that  went  by  name  of 
window. 

There  would  be  rainy  winter  afternoons  that 
would  creep  into  long  winter  nights;  hot  summer 
days  would  pass  over  the  Bastile,  bringing  nothing 
here.  And  men  would  say:  "Oh,  the  Comte  de 
Lussac!  Let  me  see;  he  died,  did  he  not?  Or  at 
all  events  disappeared,  but  that  was  twenty  years 
ago."  And  there  would  be  no  one  to  put  them  right, 
not  even  the  Comte  de  Lussac  himself,  still  perhaps 
living,  white  and  old ;  still,  perhaps,  biting  his  nails 
in  number  23,  corridor  7. 

He  pushed  his  table  under  the  window  space, 
mounted  the  table,  and  with  a  great  spring  managed 
to  jump  and  seize  the  window  bars. 

Clinging  for  a  moment,  he  looked  out.  He  saw 
the  battlemented  top  of  a  monstrous  gray  stone  wall, 
cutting  the  vague  light  of  the  evening  sky.  His  cell 
window,  in  fact,  looked  out  upon  the  larger  of  the 
two  inner  courts  of  the  Bastile.  As  he  looked,  the 
silhouette  of  a  man  passed  along  the  battlemented 


A   MAN   WITH   FOUR   IDEAS          145 

top  of  the  wall.  It  was  a  sentry.  Could  De  Lussac 
have  taken  his  stand  for  a  moment  on  those  battle- 
ments the  hopelessness  of  any  attempt  to  escape 
would  have  been  shown  to  him  to  complete  his  de- 
spair. 

He  would  have  seen  below  him  to  the  west  the 
five-storied  houses  of  the  Rue  Jean-Beausire  and  the 
Rue  de  Tournelles, — lofty  houses,  yet  dwarfed  by 
the  Bastile  to  toys.  The  spires  of  Saint  Marie, 
Saint  Catherine,  Saint  Merri,  Petit  St.  Antoine,  the 
Celestins  by  the  Pont  de  Gramont,  and  Saint  Paul 
by  the  Rue  Beautrellis;  all  lofty  spires,  but  dwarfed 
to  insignificance. 

He  would  have  seen  the  whole  of  Paris  from  Pin- 
court  to  Porcherons,  from  the  Faubourg  St.  Jacque 
to  La  Ville  L'Eveque.  The  Isle  St.  Louis  and  the 
Isle  de  la  Cite,  with  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame  in 
the  distance;  the  Isle  Louvier  beyond  the  roofs  of 
the  Grand  Arsenal,  and,  away  to  the  east,  beyond 
the  wood-yards  and  fields  bordering  the  Rue  de  la 
Contrescarp,  the  old  Hotel  des  Mousquetaires 
Noirs,  vague  in  the  mist  of  the  fields.  All  these  he 
would  have  seen,  as  the  birds  saw  them  in  their 
flight. 

He  dropped  from  the  window  on  to  the  table, 
replaced  the  table  in  the  center  of  the  cell,  and  sat 


146        THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

down  beside  it  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
Years  seemed  to  have  passed  since  that  moment  but 
an  hour  ago,  when,  walking  in  the  street,  a  voice 
behind  him  had  said,  "Good  day,  Monsieur  de  Lus- 
sac." 


CHAPTER  XI 

PARIS   FALLS   ON    MADAME 

MADAME  LINDEN,  standing  at  the  window 
of  her  boudoir,  watched  De  Lussac  as  he 
took  his  departure.  She  saw  him  crossing  the 
courtyard,  and  as  the  gate  closed  behind  him  she 
turned  to  the  table  where  Placide  had  placed  the 
Sevres  bowl  and  the  flowers. 

Utterly  unconscious  that  the  hand  of  De  Sartiries 
was  about  to  fall  on  the  man  she  loved,  she  oc- 
cupied herself,  as  she  arranged  the  flowers  in  the 
bowl,  with  the  completion  of  her  plan  against  De 
Sartines. 

The  insult  that  the  minister  of  police  had  just 
placed  on  her  by  making  a  search  at  her  house,  and 
tampering  with  her  private  papers,  had  brought  to 
a  head  her  feeling  of  bitterness  against  the  whole 
court  of  France ;  against  the  men  false  and  polished, 
and  those  women,  faithless,  futile,  and  ferocious  in 
their  enmities,  whom  it  had  been  her  lot  to  meet. 

She  would  have  felt  more  bitter  still  had  she 
known  how,  during  the  last  few  days,  rumor  had 


148        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

busied  itself  with  her  and  her  affairs.  It  was  al- 
ready known,  in  some  miraculous  way,  that  De 
Sartines  considered  her  attainted,  that  his  hand 
might  fall  on  her  at  any  moment,  and  it  was  said 
that  an  order  of  deportation  was  already  drawn  up, 
and  was  only  waiting  the  signature  of  the  king. 

As  she  stood  arranging  the  flowers  a  knock  came 
to  the  door  and  Rosine  entered. 

"Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  to  see  you,  Madame." 

"Oh,  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  to  see  me?  Well, 
show  him  up." 

Rosine  vanished  and  reappeared  a  moment  later, 
holding  the  door  open. 

"Monsieur  de  Joyeuse." 

De  Joyeuse  entered  and  bowed  to  Madame  la 

Baronne.     He  was  exquisitely  dressed,  simpering, 

an  almost  perfect  fool  in  appearance;  in  reality,  a 

cold  libertine,  calculating,  mathematical  even  in  his 

'  vices. 

"Why,  Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  as  he  kissed 
the  tips  of  her  fingers  and  released  her  hand,  "this 
is  an  unexpected  pleasure." 

"On  my  part,  Madame,"  replied  De  Joyeuse, 
casting  his  eyes  over  his  own  reflection  in  the  long 
mirror  on  the  wall,  "the  pleasure  has  been  height- 
ened by  expectancy." 


PARIS    FALLS    ON    MADAME        149 

He  took  his  seat  on  the  chair  madame  indicated 
and  which  gave  him  full  command  of  the  mirror, 
crossed  his  legs,  played  with  his  eye-glass,  and  ad- 
mired himself  languidly  while  she  went  on  with  the 
arrangement  of  her  flowers. 

"And  Madame  de  Joyeuse,"  said  the  baroness, 
"how  is  she?" 

"Oh,  ma  foi,"  replied  this  ideal  husband,  in  a 
weary  tone  of  voice,  "she  is  just  the  same  as  ever, 
Madame — sixty-two. ' ' 

"Sixty-two!  Why,  I  would  not  have  guessed 
her  for  more  than  sixty  when  I  last  met  her.  And 
do  you  always  herald  your  answers  as  to  your  wife's 
health  with  a  statement  of  her  age?" 

"Ma  foi,  yes.  It  saves  trouble.  'Monsieur  de 
Joyeuse,  how  is  your  wife?'  'Madame,  she  is  sixty- 
two.'  Is  not  that  far  shorter  than  saying:  'Thank 
you,  Madame,  my  wife  has  a  touch  of  the  rheu- 
matism, she  is  garrulous  with  old  age,  and  has  the 
temper  of  a  fiend'?" 

"And  you  married  your  wife,  Monsieur — " 

"For  her  money,  Madame.  I  am  frank.  Other- 
wise I  would  be  eternally  fighting  duels  to  force 
down  men's  throats  the  lie  that  my  wife  is  eighteen, 
and  that  I  married  her  for  her  face." 

"Monsieur,"  asked  the  baroness  gravely  and  in 


150        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

a  solicitous  voice,  "I  trust  you  find  that  mirror  com- 
fortable?" 

"Quite,  Madame,"  replied  the  imperturbable  De 
Joyeuse.  "It  is  almost  a  perfect  fit,  though  with 
regard  to v  the  lighting  of  the  room,  it  is  unhappily 
placed." 

"Poor  mirror !"  murmured  Madame  Linden  as  if 
to  herself.  "It  seems  to  me  it  is  having  a  very  ab- 
surd reflection  cast  upon  it.  Now,  see,  I  have  no 
water  for  my  flowers  unless  some  one  fetches  it  for 
me.  Dear  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  would  you  like  to 
be  usefully  employed?" 

"No,  Madame." 

At  this  moment  a  tap  came  to  the  door  and  Ro- 
sine  entered  with  a  ewer  of  water. 

"I  have  brought  you  the  water  for  the  flowers, 
Madame." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  baroness.  "You  have 
saved  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  from  disturbing  his  re- 
flection in  the  mirror.  Place  the  ewer  on  the  table." 

De  Joyeuse  ogled  Rosine  as  she  obeyed  the  baron- 
ess' order  and  withdrew.  Then  he  rose  from  his 
chair. 

"My  reflections  are  finished,  Madame.  May  I 
assist  you  with  your  flowers?" 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  "if  it  will  not  incommode 


PARIS    FALLS    ON    MADAME        151 

your  color  effect,  you  may  hold  this  rose."  She 
handed  him  a  rose,  just  as  a  person  hands  a  child 
some  trifle  to  keep  it  quiet,  continuing  her  plan 
against  De  Sartines  with  one  side  of  her  mind 
while  the  other  side  occupied  itself  with  the  flowers 
and  De  Joyeuse. 

She  could  not  imagine  why  he  had  chosen  to  pay 
her  this  visit,  nor  did  she  particularly  try.  This 
fashion-plate  that  was  still  able  to  speak  and  walk 
almost  amused  her;  she  scarcely  placed  him  in  the 
category  of  men.  Yet  the  fashion-plate,  holding 
the  rose  to  its  nostrils,  stood,  watching  her  every 
movement,  studying  the  graceful  lines  of  her  figure, 
approving  her. 

"Your  occupation  reminds  me  of  the  latest  bal- 
lade on  the  Du  Barry,  Madame.  It  is  being  circu- 
lated all  over  Paris;  the  whole  court  is  convulsed 
and  the  king  is  furious." 

"At  the  convulsions  of  the  court?" 

"No,  Madame,  at  the  confusion  of  the  Du 
Barry." 

"Repeat  me  the  ballade." 

"Madame,  it  is  unprintable." 

"Ma  foi!  I  did  not  ask  you  to  print  it.  And 
since  when,  Monsieur,  has  it  been  the  custom  of 
gallant  Frenchmen  to  turn  women  to  jest  in  ribald 


152        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

ballades  and  glory  in  the  fact?  I  am  an  Austrian, 
as  you  perhaps  know,  and  your  customs  are  strange 
to  me." 

"I  know  nothing  of  ballade  writers,  Madame. 
They  live,  I  believe,  in  the  Rue  du  Truand  and  die 
in  the  ditches  of  the  temple — if  they  are  lucky 
enough  to  escape  the  hangman  of  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines." 

"Ah!" 

"What  is  the  matter,  Madame?" 

"A  thorn  pricked  me.  Are  you  acquainted  with 
Monsieur  de  Sartines?" 

"He  is  one  of  my  friends.  But  it  is  not  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartines  that  I  came  to-day  to  speak,  but 
of  myself." 

"Of  yourself?"  cried  Madame  Linden,  laughing 
and  drying  her  hands  on  her  handkerchief.  "Ma 
foi,  Monsieur,  what  strange  subjects  you  choose  for 
conversation !" 

"Madame,"  said  De  Joyeuse,  quite  unmoved.  "I 
am  your  friend." 

"Indeed  ?    I  am  glad  to  hear  that." 

"You  have  many  enemies." 

"Who  has  not?" 

"Bitter  enemies." 

"Are  there  such  things  as  sweet  ones?" 


PARIS    FALLS    ON    MADAME        153 

"Enemies  who  speak  evil  of  you.  These  are  dan- 
gerous times,  Madame,  and  I  have  come  to  offer 
you—" 

"Yes?" 

"My  protection." 

"Your  protection!" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  replied  the  fashion-plate,  utterly 
deceived  by  the  manner  of  his  vis-a-vis.  "My  heart 
and,  if  need  be,  my  purse." 

"Your  purse?"  said  she,  ignoring  his  heart. 

"Why,  yes,  Madame;  and  a  well-filled  purse  at 
that.  I  am  direct,  you  see." 

"You  are,  indeed,"  replied  she  with  a  sweet  smile. 
"Go  on." 

"You  have  charmed  me.  Another  man  would 
have  come  to  you  and  said,  'Madame,  you  have 
charmed  me ;  allow  me  to  offer  you  my  services  and 
my  purse/  whereas  I — " 

"Whereas  you  have  paid  me  the  insult  first  and 
the  compliment  after.  One  moment!  You  have 
heard  people  speaking,  you  have  heard  me  called  an 
adventuress,  you  have  heard  this  and  that,  and  you 
have  said  to  yourself,  'Here  is  an  adventuress,  with- 
out friends.  She  pleases  me  and  I  will  make  her  my 
mistress.'  One  moment!  You  pride  yourself  on 
your  directness,  do  you  not?  Well,  so  do  I." 


154        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

She  seized  the  half-filled  ewer  of  water  from  the 
table  and  discharged  it  full  in  his  face.  Then  seiz- 
ing it  by  the  handle,  she  raised  it  with  the  intention 
of  breaking  it  on  his  head ;  but  he  was  already  at  the 
door,  and, next  moment  had  vanished.  She  heard 
his  footsteps  on  the  stairs  and  knowing  it  was  hope- 
less to  reach  him  there,  she  ran  to  the,  window  and 
opened  it. 

Next  moment  she  saw  him  crossing  the  courtyard, 
half-drenched,  half-running,  half-bent.  It  was 
loathsome,  though  to  an  unthinking  mind  laughable, 
to  see  how  that  dash  of  cold  water  had  washed 
away  the  dandy  and  brought  the  cur  to  light.  He 
was  not  perhaps  a  coward  as  the  times  went,  but  he 
was  entirely  dominated  for  the  moment  by  the 
woman  with  the  ewer. 

As  he  crossed  the  courtyard  she  called  at  him  as 
one  calls  after  a  dog,  threatening  it.  Then  she  shut 
the  window,  replaced  the  ewer  on  the  table  and  gave 
a  last  touch  to  the  bowl  of  flowers.  She  was  dis- 
turbed in  her  mind.  Her  reputation  must  have  gone 
very  much  to  the  bad  in  the  last  few  days,  else  De 
Joyeuse  would  never  have  dared  an  insult  like  that. 
She  began  to  perceive  for  the  first  time,  fully,  how 
deeply  she  was  hated  in  this  society  dominated  by 
women  and  that  odious  woman-worship  which 


PARIS    FALLS    ON    MADAME        155 

makes  a  Frenchman  the  puppet  of  his  mistress,  and 
degrades  the  worshiped  and  the  worshiper  alike. 

"Well,"  she  murmured  as  she  rang  the  bell  for 
Rosine  to  remove  the  ewer  and  to  wipe  up  the  water 
on  the  floor,  "what  do  I  care  for  their  hate  as  long 
as  I  have  his  love !" 

She  spoke  quite  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  De 
Lussac  was  at  that  moment  being  driven  to  the  Bas- 
tile  in  the  safe  custody  of  Monsieur  Beauregard. 


CHAPTER   XII 

MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY 

PLACIDE  answered  the  bell. 
"Ah!"  said  the  baroness.  "So  you  have  re- 
turned! See,  I  have  spilled  some  water.  I  have 
been  washing  a  dog.  Fetch  a  cloth  to  wipe  it  up,  and 
you  can  take  the  ewer  away.  No  parcels  have  come 
for  me,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  Madame." 

The  old  man  went  off  with  the  ewer  and  returned 
in  a  moment  with  a  cloth. 

She  took  it  from  him,  went  down  on  her  knees 
and  mopped  up  the  water  on  the  parquet. 

"My  legs  are  younger  than  yours,"  said  she. 
"Here,  take  the  cloth.  I  am  going  out,  and  should 
any  parcels  arrive  for  me,  tell  Rosine  to  place  them 
in  my  bedroom." 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Stay,"  said  the  baroness.     "What  is  that?" 

Voices  sounded  from  below  stairs,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment Rosine  came  running  up. 

156 


MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY     157 

"Monsieur  Boehmer  has  called,  Madame." 

"Boehmer,  the  jeweler?" 

"Yes,  Madame?" 

"Ah,  he  has  brought  my  necklace.  Run  down 
and  show  him  up." 

Rosine  disappeared,  and  in  a  moment  returned, 
ushering  in  Boehmer.  Placide  left  the  room,  and 
madame  found  herself  alone  with  the  jeweler. 
Boehmer  was  a  Hebrew,  a  German  Hebrew,  very 
stout,  soberly  yet  richly  dressed,  with  a  blazing  dia- 
mond on  the  middle  finger  of  his  left  hand,  and  a 
most  seductive  smile  presided  over  by  a  command- 
ing nose.  He  was  very  well-to-do.  Jeweler  to  the 
court,  he  held  a  good  many  secrets  in  his  keeping. 
Losses  at  cards  brought  many  of  the  nobility  to 
Monsieur  Boehmer;  he  lent  money  on  good  secur- 
ity and  sometimes  even  on  bad.  He  was  gracious 
to  every  one  without  pretense,  for  he  had  a  good 
heart;  he  was  charitable  out  of  business  and  had 
been  known  to  give  money  to  those  to  whom  he 
had  refused  a  loan.  But  in  business  he  had  no  heart 
at  all. 

"Good  day,  Monsieur  Boehmer." 

"Good  day,  Madame." 

"You  have  called  about  the  diamonds?" 

"Madame,"  said  Boehmer,  taking  a  parcel  from 


158        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

his  pocket,  "I  have  brought  them.  The  necklace  is 
complete." 

He  took  from  the  parcel  a  velvet-covered  box, 
opened  it,  and  exposed  to  view  a  superb  necklace  of 
pure  white  stones,  each  a  fountain  of  fire. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!  how  beautiful!"  cried  the  baron- 
ess. 

"Is  not  it  sweet  ?"  said  Boehmer,  moving  the  cas- 
ket so  that  the  gems  shone  and  flashed  and  leaped 
before  the  fascinated  eyes  of  the  purchaser. 

"Quite.  Excellent  workmanship!  I  must  con- 
gratulate you,  Monsieur  Boehmer." 

"Thank  you,  Madame." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  take  it. 

"And  the  bill,  Madame?"  said  Boehmer,  without 
relinquishing  the  stones. 

"Ah !  the  bill.  Sixty  thousand  francs,  I  think  you 
said  the  price  would  be  ?" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Well,  I  will  pay  you  before  I  leave  for  Vienna. 
You  said  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  pay  on  deliv- 
ery." 

"Unfortunately,  Madame,  when  I  said  that  I 
spoke  without  the  consent  of  my  partner,  Monsieur 
Bostang,  and  since  then  we  have  had  some  very 
heavy  liabilities  to  meet." 


MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY     159 

"Oh,"  said  the  baroness;  "you  have  had  some 
very  heavy  liabilities  to  meet?" 

Before  Boehmer  could  reply,  a  knock  came  at  the 
door  and  Placide  entered. 

"Madame,"  said  Placide,  "Monsieur  Behrens  has 
called  and  wishes  to  see  you." 

"Behrens,  the  haberdasher?" 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Show  him  up."  Then,  turning  to  Boehmer, 
"You  mistrust  me.  Take  your  jewels  away  and 
keep  them  till  you  hear  from  me." 

"Oh,  Madame,  you  are — " 

"I  am  the  Baroness  Sophie  Linden,  a  woman  of 
her  word.  Good  day,  Monsieur  Boehmer." 

"Madame,  if  you  will  but  listen  to  me — " 

"Good  day,  Monsieur  Boehmer.  Ah,  Monsieur 
Behrens,  come  in." 

Behrens  entered,  bowing,  while  Boehmer,  aston- 
ished, half-angry,  half-filled  with  admiration  for  the 
woman  who  had  treated  him  so  cavalierly,  bowed 
himself  out.  A  woman  of  the  court  would  have 
raved  or  wheedled,  promised,  threatened.  As  he 
descended  the  stairs,  his  acute  mind  told  him  he  had 
been  misled  by  the  rumors  he  had  heard;  that  this 
woman  was  to  be  trusted ;  but  it  was  too  late  now 
to  rectify  matters,  so  he  took  his  way  back  to  his 


160        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

shop,  nearly  certain  that  the  jewels  would  be  taken 
and  paid  for  in  the  end. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Behrens,"  said  the  baroness, 
"and  my  gowns  ?" 

"They  are  finished,  Madame." 

"And  my  hats?" 

"Oh,  Madame,  they  are  not  hats — they  are  cre- 
ations." 

"And  my  bill,  is  that,  too,  a  creation  ?" 

"Your  bill  is  forty  thousand  francs,  Madame." 

"A  large  sum,  Monsieur  Behrens." 

"Oh,  Madame,  forty  thousand  francs !  What  are 
they  to  the  conquest  of  Paris?" 

"So  you  think  my  hats  will  conquer  Paris?" 

"Madame,  the  rose  flamingo  hat,  alone,  would 
conquer  Europe." 

"Well,  these  conquerors  of  yours — have  you 
brought  them  with  you  ?" 

"Oh,  Madame,  so  many  hats  and  gowns!  One 
can  not  carry  those  in  one's  pocket.  They  shall  be 
sent  to-night." 

"That  is  well.  And  see  that  they  are  packed 
properly  for  traveling.  Good  day,  Monsieur  Beh- 
rens." 

"But,  Madame,  there  is  my  bill." 

"Ah,  true ;  your  bill.    I  thought  we  had  spoken  of 


MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY     161 

that.  You  told  me  it  would  be  unnecessary  to  pay 
on  delivery  and  that  I  could  arrange  with  you  be- 
fore I  left  Paris." 

"When  did  I  say  that,  Madame?" 

"When !    When  I  ordered  the  things." 

"When  you  ordered  the  things  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"Madame,  there  must  have  been  some  mistake. 
As  for  myself,  I  am  entirely  at  Madame's  disposal, 
but  I  have  a  partner,  Monsieur  Bompard — " 

"I  know.  You  mistrust  me.  Well,  return  to 
Monsieur  Bompard  and  tell  him  to  keep  the  hats 
and  gowns  till  I  send  for  them." 

Behrens,  inarticulate  for  a  moment,  seemed  en- 
deavoring to  tie  himself  into  knots. 

"If  Madame  will  excuse  me — " 

"With  pleasure,"  said  she,  opening  the  door. 
"Good  day,  Monsieur  Behrens." 

"Ah,  but,  Madame—" 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you  on  this  sub- 
ject at  present.  Later  on  I  shall  communicate  my 
wishes  to  you." 

Behrens,  for  once  in  his  life  dumb,  retreated, 
bowing.  He  had  nothing  to  say.  Rumor  had  been 
talking  to  him,  too,  about  Madame  Linden,  and  he 
was  quite  determined  not  to  deliver  over  the  ex- 


162        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

quisite  dresses,  some  at  three  thousand  francs 
apiece,  the  marvelous  hats  for  which  his  house  was 
so  famous,  without  payment  on  delivery. 

Madame  Linden,  having  closed  the  door,  went  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  across  the  courtyard  at 
the  street  and  the  passers-by. 

Outwardly  quite  calm,  she  was  raging  inwardly. 
She  had  more  than  sufficient  money  to  pay  Boehmer 
and  Behrens ;  absolutely  honest  in  her  dealings  with 
tradespeople,  she  would  have  paid  the  jeweler  and 
the  haberdasher  at  once  had  they  not  come  with 
their  claims  immediately  after  the  conduct  of  De 
Sartines  and  the  insult  of  De  Joyeuse ;  she  felt  that 
Paris  was  falling  on  her,  that  the  tradespeople  were 
only  following  the  example  of  their  masters  and 
that  the  fountain  and  origin  of  all  this  was  De  Sar- 
tines. 

She  was  all  the  more  bitter,  as  she  had  intended 
wearing  the  necklace  that  evening  at  a  reception  to 
which  she  had  been  invited  by  Madame  de  Stenlis. 

While  she  was  standing  thus  a  knock  came  at  the 
door,  and  Placide  entered  with  a  note. 

"From  Madame  de  Stenlis,  Madame." 

She  opened  it,  read  it,  and  gave  a  cry  as  though 
some  one  had  wounded  her. 


MADAME  ASSERTS  HER  DIGNITY     163 

"Madame  de  Stenlis  regrets  that,  owing  to  sud- 
den indisposition,  she  will  not  be  at  home  to-night." 

Then,  a  little  farther  down : 

"To  Madame  la  Baronne  Linden." 

All  the  other  vexations  and  insults  she  had  re- 
ceived that  day  paled  before  this.  The  form  of  the 
thing  was  so  abominable ;  spurious  politeness  cover- 
ing deathly  insult. 

"Placide,"  said  his  mistress,  crumpling  the  paper 
up  and  casting  it  into  a  corner  of  the  room,  "you 
can  tell  Rosine  that  she  need  not  trouble  to  arrange 
my  toilet  for  Madame  de  Stenlis'  reception." 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Then  go  to  Vaudrin  and  order  my  carriage  to  be 
sent  round  at  a  quarter  to  eight." 

Left  alone,  she  took  the  handkerchief  of  De  Sar- 
tines  from  her  pocket  and  glanced  at  it  as  a  soldier 
glances  at  his  weapon. 


PART   II 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE 

IN  THE  time  of  his  majesty  King  Louis  the  Fif- 
teenth the  nobility  dined  at  four  o'clock  and 
supped  at  eight;  the  king  dined  at  five  and  his  sup- 
per was  served  at  nine;  the  common  people,  when 
they  dined  at  all,  sat  down  to  table  at  two. 

Monsieur  de  Sartines,  to  mark  his  position  be- 
neath the  king,  but  closer  to  him,  by  virtue  of  his 
office,  even  than  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  dined  at  half 
past  four  and  supped  half  an  hour  later  than  the 
nobility — that  is  to  say,  at  half  past  eight. 

At  half  past  seven  on  the  day  of  De  Lussac's  im- 
prisonment Monsieur  de  Sartines,  who  had  dined 
badly,  owing  to  business  preoccupations,  was  seated 
before  his  bureau  in  that  octagon  chamber  of  the 
Hotel  de  Sartines  where  we  have  seen  him  inter- 
viewing the  agent,  Lavenne,  while  beside  him  stood 
Monsieur  Beauregard. 

"Good,"  said  the  minister,  who  was  seated  side- 
wise  in  his  chair,  which  he  had  turned  slightly 

167 


1 68        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

away  from  the  bureau  so  that  he  might  converse  the 
more  easily  with  his  lieutenant.  "And  he  made  no 
resistance  ?" 

"None,  Monsieur." 

"No  attempt  at  bribery?" 

"None,  Monsieur." 

"No  appeal  to  be  allowed  to  return  to  his  house 
for  clothes  and  linen?  They  usually  do  that  when 
they  wish  to  destroy  themselves,  as  in  the  case  of 
Wattelet;  or  to  burn  papers,  as  in  the  case  of  De 
White.  You  remember  the  case  of  De  White  ?" 

"No,  Monsieur,"  replied  Beauregard,  flushing, 
for  the  case  of  De  White  was  a  sore  point  with  him, 
as  he  had  been  the  officer  in  charge  of  it,  and  the 
prisoner,  taking  advantage  of  his  good  nature,  had 
succeeded  in  destroying  certain  documents  which  De 
Sartines  had  very  much  desired  to  possess. 

"You  saw  nothing  of  the  woman,  Madame  Lin- 
den?" 

"No,  Monsieur.  I  followed  him  to  her  house. 
He  entered  and  remained  there  some  time.  As  he 
left  I  followed  him  again,  accosted  him,  arrested 
him  and  conveyed  him  to  the  Bastile,  where  he  now 
is,  safe  in  the  keeping  of  Monsieur  Vitry." 

"Monsieur  Vitry?" 

"Monsieur  De  Launay  was  absent,  Monsieur." 


THE   MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE      169 

"Well,  Monsieur  Vitry  is  a  very  good  substitute. 
That  will  do.  Any  news  of  Lavenne?" 

"No,  Monsieur." 

"Well,  he  is  dismissed,  but  should  he  turn  up, 
send  him  here  that  I  may  give  him  his  dismissal  in 
person." 

Beauregard  withdrew,  and  De  Sartines,  raising 
his  voice,  cried,  "Germain!" 

A  door  in  the  paneling  of  the  room  opened  and  a 
man  dressed  in  black  entered.  He  had  evidently 
risen  from  a  desk  in  haste  to  obey  the  summons,  for 
he  held  a  pen  in  his  hand.  Germain  was  De  Sar- 
tines' private  secretary  and  factotum,  an  oddity  who 
was  at  the  same  time  a  perfect  machine.  He  was  as 
trustworthy  as  a  well-constructed  mechanism  but 
quite  without  initiative. 

"A  special  messenger  to  take  this  despatch  to 
Monsieur  Beaupre,  the  governor  of  La  Force.  You 
remember  my  saying  of  the  forger  Beaujon,  'I  will 
find  him  out,  I  will  catch  him,  I  will  hang  him'  ?" 

"Yes,  your  Excellency." 

"Well,  that's  his  death  sentence,  signed  by  the 
king.  I  never  go  back  on  my  word.  Here,  take 
this  other  despatch  and  send  it  by  special  messenger 
to  the  governor  of  Vincennes;  it's  for  De  Valliers. 
I  promised  him  his  release  if  he  gave  information 


1 70       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

on  the  Matthieu  affair,  and  I  never  go  back  on  my 
word;  take  it." 

Germain  took  the  document  and  left  the  room  by 
the  door  leading  to  his  office  just  as  a  stroke  of  the 
usher's  wand  sounded  at  the  door  opening  on  the 
corridor. 

"Lavenne  has  returned,  Monsieur." 

"Ah,"  said  De  Sartines,  glancing  over  his  shoul- 
der at  the  usher.  "Lavenne  has  returned,  has  he? 
Show  him  in." 

A  moment  later  Lavenne  made  his  appearance. 

De  Sartines  turned  his  chair  half  round,  crossed 
his  legs,  and  looked  straight  at  the  agent,  who, 
standing  near  the  door,  did  not  advance  farther. 

"So,"  said  De  Sartines,  "it  is  you." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Come  to  report  yourself?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"And  take  my  orders?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"Then  take  them.    You  are  dismissed.    Begone!" 

"But,  Monsieur — " 

"I  told  you  that  if  you  did  not  report  to  me  by  a 
certain  time  this  afternoon  and  bring  me  evidence  in 
the  De  Lussac  affair  that  I  would  dismiss  you. 
Now,  listen  to  me.  I  am  not  a  master  who  demands 


THE   MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE      171 

impossibilities.  I  imposed  the  time  limit  on  you  as 
a  punishment  for  the  manner  in  which  you  allowed 
yourself  to  criticize  my  methods.  You  sneered  at 
Gaussin,  an  able  man  who,  at  all  events,  did  his 
best,  and  yon — what  have  you  done?  You  have 
done  nothing." 

"Excuse  me,  Monsieur." 

"Silence !  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  the  tale  of  your 
deeds.  I  have  had  to  dip  my  hands  into  this  affair 
myself.  Monsieur  de  Lussac  is  in  prison  and  the 
matter  is  ended." 

"Mon  Dieu,  Monsieur!"  cried  Lavenne,  "what  is 
this  you  tell  me?  Monsieur  de  Lussac  in  prison?" 

"Silence !  I  wish  to  have  no  more  to  say  to  you. 
Go!" 

"But,  Monsieur,  will  you  not  listen  to  just  one 
word?" 

"Not  half  a  word !    Begone !" 

Lavenne  dropped  his  head,  contemplated  the  pat- 
tern of  the  parquet  for  a  moment,  then,  with  the 
ghost  of  a  smile  on  his  lips,  he  bowed  profoundly  to 
the  minister  of  police,  turned,  and  left  the  room. 

De  Sartines  went  to  the  bureau,  opened  his  snuff- 
box and  took  a  pinch. 

"Scamp!  That  will  teach  him.  'Tis  a  pity,  too, 
for  the  fellow  was  not  without  cleverness — " 


172        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

He  turned,  for  Germain  had  just  entered  the 
room. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur- 
Whatever  Germain  was  about  to  say  was  cut 
short  by  a  knock  at  the  door  leading  to  the  corridor. 
The  door  opened  and  the  usher  appeared. 

"A  lady  has  called,  your  Excellency,  and  desires 
an  interview." 

"I  can  see  no  one,"  replied  De  Sartines,  glancing 
at  the  clock.  "I  have  a  letter  to  write  before  sup- 
per. What  is  her  name  ?" 

"Madame  la  Baronne  Linden,  Monsieur." 

"Madame  Linden!"  cried  De  Sartines,  starting 
slightly.  "Tell  her — "  He  paused  for  a  moment 
as  if  undecided.  Then  he  made  up  his  mind. 

"I  will  see  her." 

The  usher  vanished. 

"Now,  what  can  this  mean?"  He  turned  to  Ger- 
main, who  had  not  left  the  room. 

"Which,  Monsieur?" 

"This  visit?" 

"I  don't  know,  Monsieur." 

"Blockhead !  Go,  leave  me."  He  turned,  and  as 
Germain  vanished  into  his  office  the  door  opened 
and  the  usher's  voice  announced :  "Madame  la  Ba- 
ronne Linden." 


THE  MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE      173 

Never  had  the  door  of  the  octagon  chamber 
formed  so  perfect  a  picture  as  that  which  now 
greeted  De  Sartines'  eyes. 

He  had  seen  Madame  la  Baronne  several  times 
before  this,  but  always  at  a  distance;  now,  close  to 
him,  he  could  appreciate  fully  her  charm.  He 
bowed  low  as  the  usher  closed  the  door. 

"Good  evening,  Madame." 

"Good  evening,  Monsieur.  I  must  apologize  for 
this  late  visit,  but  my  business  is  of  so  urgent  a 
nature  that  I  could  not  wait  till  to-morrow." 

"Madame,"  said  De  Sartines  with  that  perfect 
falseness  which  was  one  of  his  charms,  "I  have  had 
three  pleasures  to-day.  The  first  was  an  interview 
with  his  majesty,  the  second  an  act  of  charity  which 
heaven  graciously  permitted  me  to  perform,  and  the 
third—" 

"Yes,  Monsieur?" 

"The  pleasure  of  seeing  so  charming  a  lady  in 
this  grim  room." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  not  so  grim." 

"Since  you  entered  it,"  replied  he,  bowing. 

Madame  Linden  took  the  chair  to  which  he  waved 
her,  sat  down,  sighed,  and  cast  her  eyes  about  her. 

"Perhaps,  indeed,  Monsieur,  it  will  be  grimmer 
when  I  leave  it.  For  they  say  that  even  the  ugliest 


174       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

woman  takes  something  charming  away  with  her 
from  a  place  where  she  is  no  longer." 

"Madame,"  said  De  Sartines,  "a  woman  can  nev- 
er take  anything  more  charming  away  with  her  than 
that  which  she  brings." 

"Then,  Monsieur,"  replied  she,  "in  my  case  you 
must  reverse  your  opinion,  for  I  bring  a  very  un- 
charming  thing  with  me." 

"And  what  is  that,  Madame?" 

"An  accusation." 

"An  accusation  against  whom,  Madame  ?" 

"Your  agents  of  police,  Monsieur." 

De  Sartines  paused  for  a  moment  as  a  chess- 
player pauses  over  a  move.  He  pushed  an  arm- 
chair from  the  wall,  then  he  took  his  seat. 

"From  your  lips,  Madame,"  said  he,  "even  an  ac- 
cusation is  charming.  And  what  have  my  poor  po- 
lice been  about  that  you  should  accuse  them?" 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  baroness,  "to-day,  in  my 
absence  at  Compiegne,  they  ransacked  my  house  in 
the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  upset  the  furniture,  turned  my 
escritoire  inside  out,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs'  worth  of  jewelry  is  missing. 
Neighbors  saw  the  police  agents  enter  the  house, 
and  they  can  testify." 

The  amazing  impudence  of  this  move  struck  De 


THE  MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE      175 

Sartines  like  a  blow  under  the  belt,  which,  in  fact, 
it  was. 

"Madame,"  he  cried,  forgetting  prudence  for  the 
moment,  "my  agents  upset  nothing.  There  were  no 
jewels  to  be  stolen." 

"That  is  to  say,  if  there  had  been  jewels  they 
would  have  been  stolen,"  laughed  the  baroness. 
"Take  care,  Monsieur;  you  are  making  confessions. 
Oh,  Monsieur,  why  try  subterfuge  with  me?  Lis- 
ten !  I  can  prove  that  your  agents  came  to  my  house 
to-day  and  entered  it  like  thieves ;  I  can  prove  that 
I  opened  my  escritoire  only  to  find  no  jewels  there — 
a  nice  tale,  Monsieur,  to  be  laid  before  his  majesty, 
at  whose  feet  I  am  quite  prepared  to  cast  myself, 
assured  as  I  am  of  his  justice." 

De  Sartines  checked  the  anger  that  was  rising  in 
his  heart.  He  felt  himself  in  the  presence  of  a  most 
formidable  antagonist. 

"My  police  did  not  enter  your  house,  Madame. 
Had  they  done  so,  they  would  not  have  tampered 
with  your  jewels.  Policemen  are  not  thieves." 

"Since  when,  Monsieur?" 

"Madame,"  said  De  Sartines,  "repartee  is  not  my 
business." 

"So  I  should  imagine,"  said  the  baroness,  with  a 
little  laugh.  "You  have  other  work  to  do,  perhaps.. 


176       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

You  are  the  guardian  of  the  public  honor;  I  can 
quite  imagine  how  full  your  hands  must  be.  I  come 
to  you  as  the  guardian  of  the  morals  of  Paris,  and  I 
ask  for  the  restoration  of  my  jewels  and  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  offenders." 

"The  police  have  not  got  your  jewels,  Madame." 
"Oh,  Monsieur,  their  value  will  do." 
"Madame,  the  police  have  not  got  your  jewels." 
"When  the  king  hears  my  story,  he  will  think 
differently.     I  do  not  know  what  the  police  have 
done  with  my  jewels,  but  I  will  take  their  value." 

"Diablel"  cried  De  Sartines,  incensed  by  this 
childish  reiteration.  He  would  have  ordered  her 
from  the  hotel  had  he  not  felt  that  behind  this  as- 
sassin's attack  on  his  purse  there  was  a  power  and  a 
motive  he  could  not  yet  gage;  besides,  the  fascina- 
tion of  her  unconsciously  held  him.  She  was  a  new 
sensation. 

"Did  you  speak,  Monsieur?" 
"No,  Madame;  I  was  only  thinking  aloud." 
"I  thought  I  heard  the  name  of  one  of  your 
friends.      No   matter;   let   us   return   to   business. 
Shall  we  say  a  hundred  thousand  francs?" 

De  Sartines  rose  to  his  feet,  paced  the  room, 
pulled  down  his  waistcoat  and  suddenly  turned  to 
his  visitor. 


THE  MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE      177 

"Did  you  speak,  Madame  ?" 

"Shall  we  say  a  hundred  thousand  francs  ?  That 
is  the  exact  worth  of  my  jewels." 

De  Sartines  laughed.  The  nobleman  suddenly 
vanished  and  the  minister  of  police  appeared. 

"A  hundred  thousand  devils !  I  have  caught  you, 
Madame !  Not  a  word  of  our  conversation  has  been 
lost.  All  has  been  recorded  by  my  secretary,  Ger- 
main, who  sits  in  the  adjoining  room,  and  who,  at 
my  direction,  has  listened  while  I  led  you  into  your 
own  trap.  So  you  would  rob  me!  Germain!  Ho 
there,  Germain!" 

The  door  opened,  and  Germain,  pen  in  hand,  ap- 
peared. 

"You  have  heard  our  conversation,  Germain?" 
asked  De  Sartines,  with  a  slight  grimace  that  was 
quite  lost  on  the  secretary. 

"No,  Monsieur." 

The  baroness  broke  into  a  joyous  little  laugh,  and 
De  Sartines,  suppressing  his  anger  with  a  tremen- 
dous effort,  waved  Germain  from  the  room. 

As  he  turned  again  to  the  baroness,  the  face  of 
this  extraordinary  man  had  completely  changed.  He 
was  laughing  now  as  if  tickled  by  the  joke  against 
himself. 

"Mordieu!"  thought  the  baroness,  "what  an  ac- 


178        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

tor !  Let  us  beware !"  Then  to  De  Sartines,  "Well, 
Monsieur — and  my  jewels?" 

"Upon  my  word,  Madame,"  said  De  Sartines, 
"your  wit  seems  to  have  increased  the  stupidity  of 
my  servants.  'Tis  enough  to  make  one  call  a  truce. 
The  difficulty  between  us  has  been  that  we  have  not 
been  quite  frank  one  to  the  other,  have  we?  I 
admit  it  on  my  part.  Now,  I  will  show  my  mind  to 
you." 

The  baroness  laughed.  "Heaven  help  me  to  meet 
the  sight,"  murmured  she,  casting  her  eyes  up  to 
the  ceiling. 

"I  will  show  you  my  heart." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  cried  the  baroness,  still  laugh- 
ing, "it  is  useless,  for  I  have  left  my  magnifying- 
glass  at  home." 

"I  will  do,  Madame,  for  your  wit  and  beauty 
what  I  would  not  do  for  money." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  beware  of  promising  the  impos- 
sible." 

"I  will  explain  to  you  this  affair.  First  of  all,  I 
admit  that  the  police  have  visited  your  house." 

"Germain !"  cried  the  baroness.  "Ho  there,  Ger- 
main! Are  you  listening?" 

De  Sartines  held  up  his  hand. 

"Information  reached  the  police  that  a  thief  was 


THE  MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE      179 

in  your  house.  They  went  there  in  search  of  him; 
they  arrived  too  late." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  at  once?"  asked 
she,  more  to  gage  De  Sartines'  capacity  for  lying 
than  for  any  other  reason. 

"Because,  Madame,  it  is  a  rule  at  the  bureau  of 
police  to  say  nothing  of  the  work  of  the  office. 
Had  you  been  able  to  assist  us,  you  would  have  been 
apprised  of  the  affair.  And  that  reminds  me;  now 
that  you  are  here  and  have  given  this  information, 
I  must  ask  you  for  an  exact  list  of  all  these  jewels 
you  say  you  have  lost." 

He  watched  her  narrowly  as  he  said  this,  but  her 
face  did  not  alter  in  the  least. 

"With  pleasure,  Monsieur;  take  a  seat  and  a  pen 
and  I  will  dictate." 

De  Sartines,  amazed  at  her  aplomb  and  coolness, 
took  his  seat  at  his  desk  and  a  pen. 

"A  necklace  of  forty-one  diamonds,  set  in  two 
rows  of  twenty  each,  each  diamond  divided  from  its 
fellows  by  a  double  chain  of  gold ;  the  hasp  formed 
of  a  single  diamond  set  in  heavy  gold  and  with  my 
initials,  'S.  L.',  on  the  gold;  value  at  the  very  least, 
forty  thousand  francs." 

"Forty  thousand  francs,"  murmured  De  Sartines, 
completing  the  sentence.  "Yes,  Madame ;  proceed." 


i8o       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

She  did;  rings,  bracelets,  brooches,  she  described 
all  with  such  minutiae  that  the  unfortunate  De  Sar- 
tines,  whom  she  had  turned  into  a  scrivener  more 
hardly  driven  than  those  of  the  palace  of  justice, 
began  to  ask  himself  if,  after  all,  her  tale  might  not 
be  true.  But  only  for  a  second — there  was  mirth  in 
her  voice,  laughter  scarcely  disguised.  It  was  no 
part  of  her  plan,  seemingly,  to  delude  her  enemy 
whom  she  was  keeping  busily  employed  with  the 
tale  of  her  fictitious  jewels. 

The  avariciousness  of  De  Sartines  was  well 
known. 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  De  Sartines  as  he  finished 
writing,  "that  is  all,  and  the  total  amounts  to  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs." 

"I  will  forego  the  twenty  thousand  francs,"  re- 
plied she ;  "and  now,  Monsieur,  that  we  have  set  the 
account  between  us  on  a  definite  footing,  may  I  ask 
you  one  question?  Were  you  of  the  search-party 
that  visited  my  house  this  afternoon?" 

"I,  Madame!  I,  the  Comte  de  Sartines,  seeking 
for  thieves  in  person!  Madame,  do  you  know  to 
whom  you  are  speaking?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  to  the  owner  of  this  handker- 
chief." She  took  the  handkerchief  from  her  pocket 
and  held  it  toward  him. 


THE   MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE      181 

De  Sartines  clapped  his  hand  to  his  pocket. 

"My  handkerchief!" 

"Left  at  my  house." 

De  Sartines  saw  in  a  flash  the  toils  in  which  she 
held  him.  He  could  not  seize  her  or  take  the  hand- 
kerchief from  her  by  force;  accredited  as  she  was 
by  the  court  of  Vienna,  violence  and  bullying  were 
out  of  the  question.  She  would  doubtless  back  her 
assertion  of  the  robbery  of  the  jewels  by  false  wit- 
nesses, produce  the  handkerchief,  and  no  doubt  ac- 
cuse him  of  the  theft. 

Now,  absurd  as  such  an  accusation  might  seem, 
his  thousand  enemies  in  Paris  and  at  Versailles 
would  seize  on  it. 

The  very  knowledge  that  it  was  false  would  make 
them  more  ferocious  in  their  ridicule;  there  would 
be  a  public  inquiry.  De  Maupeou,  the  vice-chan- 
cellor, who  hated  him ;  the  courtiers,  who  hated  him ; 
the  people,  who  hated  him;  the  philosophers,  the 
ballad-mongers,  the  rag-pickers — he  saw  them  all 
arrayed  against  him.  His  imaginative  mind  saw  the 
ballads  that  would  be  written  round  the  "dropped 
handkerchief  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines."  Confident 
of  his  own  position  and  power,  he  had  no  fear  of  the 
result.  He  would  bring  as  many  false  witnesses  as 
his  antagonist;  but  he  did  not  desire  the  scandal  of 


182        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

the  affair  and  the  laughter.  Therefore  he  tempo- 
rized. Besides,  an  idea  had  come  to  him.  He 
laughed. 

"Faith,  Madame,"  said  he,  "you  have  disarmed 
me." 

"With  a  handkerchief!" 

"No,  Madame,  with  your  wit.  Replace  that  hand- 
kerchief in  your  pocket,  I  pray  you.  There  is  no 
doubt  but  that  we  shall  come  to  terms,  and  to  fur- 
ther our  better  understanding  of  one  another,  I  will 
confess  that  the  police  visited  your  house  to-day, 
not  to  search  for  a  robber,  but  for  political  reasons." 

"Ah!" 

"You  see,  I  am  perfectly  frank.  I  will  tell  you 
even  more;  they  found  nothing.  Madame,  their 
visit  was  not  directed  against  you.  I  have  no  quar- 
rel against  you — only  one  piece  of  advice  to  give 
you:  do  not,  charming  as  you  are,  mix  yourself  in 
these  political  movements  that  are  on  foot  in  Paris. 
Save  yourself  while  you  may." 

He  took  a  seat  near  her.  His  voice  had  become 
friendly.  The  baroness,  but  for  her  deep  knowl- 
edge of  men  and  her  intuitive  knowledge  of  De  Sar- 
tines,  might  have  fancied  that  all  this  was  real. 
Profound  as  himself  in  deceit  and  even  a  better  ac- 
tor, she  listened  while  he  went  on. 


THE  MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE      183 

"You  will  forgive  me  the  visit  to  your  house 
when  I  tell  you  I  forgive  that  glittering  fable  of  the 
jewels.  Oh,  don't  misunderstand  me.  You  have 
caught  me  fairly  enough,  and  I  suppose  I  must  pay. 
We  will  arrange  all  that."  He  spoke  in  a  preoccu- 
pied manner.  Then  leaning  forward,  he  took  her 
hand. 

"Well?" 

"Upon  my  word,  Madame,  I  do  not  know  how  to 
say  what  is  in  my  mind.  You  are  the  only  woman 
who  has  ever  got  the  better  of  me,  yet  I  do  not  hate 
you  for  it.  Madame,  the  minister  of  police  is  no 
longer  before  you.  Know  you  not,  Madame,  that 
every  man  is  double?" 

"Of  that  fact,  Monsieur,  I  am  well  aware." 

"Till  beauty  touches  him  and  he  becomes  single," 
De  Sartines  continued. 

"So  men  say,  Monsieur,  but,  alas,  when  beauty 
ceases  touching  them — " 

"Yes?" 

"They  become  double  again  in  a  trice." 

"That  is  true,"  laughed  De  Sartines,  playing  with 
the  rings  on  her  ringers;  "we  are  but  human." 

"And  being  human,"  said  she,  relinquishing  her 
hand  entirely  to  him,  "that  is  why  we  err." 

"Then,    Madame,"   said    De   Sartines,    his   hand 


184        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

straying  to  her  wrist,  while  his  knee  touched  hers, 
"you,  at  least,  have  never  erred." 

"And  how  so,  Monsieur?" 

"Because  you  are  divine." 

"Oh,  Monsieur!  If  I  thought  you  were  serious, 
I  would  think  you — may  I  speak  my  mind  ?" 

"Speak." 

"A  fool." 

"A  fool!" 

"Or  in  love." 

"I  have  been  a  fool,  Madame,"  said  he,  his  hand 
straying  to  the  curves  of  her  forearm,  "but  you  have 
cured  me  of  my  folly.  I  matched  my  wit  against 
yours  and  you  have  cured  me,  I  say,  completely  of 
my  folly." 

"I  am  then  your  physician  ?" 

"Most  lovely  creature — yes." 

"After  the  bolus  comes  the  bill,  Monsieur." 

De  Sartines  made  a  face. 

"The  bill!" 

"Yes — a  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"Listen,  Madame.  Monsieur  de  Maupeou  the 
other  day  told  me  this  story.  A  physician  attending 
a  patient  for  the  quinsy,  cured  him  of  the  quinsy, 
but  infected  him  with  the  croup.  He  presented  his 
bill  for  the  quinsy,  and  the  patient,  who,  by  the  way, 


THE   MINISTER  MAKES  LOVE      185 

was  a  lawyer,  presented,  in  turn,  his  bill  for  the 
croup.  It  was  argued  before  the  courts,  and  each 
claim  was  allowed.  Therefore  neither  protagonist 
got  anything.  You  have  cured  me  of  folly,  most 
beautiful  physician,  but  you  have  infected  me  with 
admiration.  Therefore  we  are  quits  and  free  to  ar- 
range our  money  affaiis  on  the  basis  of  common  un- 
derstanding." 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  suddenly  cutting 
him  short,  "the  handkerchief  is  not  in  that  pocket." 

De  Sartines  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Madame,  I  was 
not  searching  your  pocket.  My  hand  was  on  your 
waist."  He  now  stood  before  her  the  picture  of 
virtuous  indignation. 

The  baroness  laughed. 

"Enough,  Madame,"  replied  the  man  of  masks, 
dropping  the  mask  of  the  lover  and  reappearing 
again  as  the  minister  of  police.  "You  have  charged 
my  agents  with  a  misdemeanor ;  your  charge  will  be 
investigated.  You  have  charged  me  just  now  with 
an  ungentlemanly  action.  I  have  had  enough  of 
your  charges,  Madame.  Our  interview  is  closed. 
.What  are  you  waiting  for,  pray?" 

"For  your  purse  to  open." 

"Ah,"  said  he,  suddenly  assuming  a  brutal  tone, 
"you  persist  ?  Now,  listen  to  me.  Your  doings  are 


1 86        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

known  to  me  and  the  doings  of  your  lover,  Mon- 
sieur Armand  de  Lussac,  whom  I  seized  to-day  as 
he  left  your  house,  and  whom  I  sent  to  cool  his  ar- 
dor for  politics  in  his  majesty's  fortress  of  the  Bas- 
tile.  Beware,  Madame,  that  I  do  not  deal  with  you 
as  harshly." 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet  and  at  these  words  the 
color  fled  from  her  face.  He  had  hit  her  at  last. 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  he  brutally,  enjoying  the 
effect  of  his  speech,  "what  have  we  to  say  to  that?" 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

Up  to  this  she  had  been  playing  a  comedy.  The 
hundred  thousand  francs  which  she  had  determined 
to  make  De  Sartines  pay  for  his  visit  to  her  house 
would  have  been  presented,  with  an  epigram,  to  the 
poor  of  Paris.  Not  once  during  all  his  pretense  of 
admiration  did  he  deceive  her;  she  had  borne  with 
him  only  from  the  knowledge  that  she  was  sitting 
firmly  on  the  handkerchief  and  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  him  to  get  it.  She  had  let  him  go  on 
just  as  one  lets  a  child  go  on  in  its  attempt  to  steal 
jam,  up  to  that  point  when  the  cupboard  door  is 
reached.  She  had  enjoyed  the  situation  hugely. 

And  now,  at  a  stroke,  her  comedy  was  turned  to 
tragedy. 

The  "perfumed  policeman"  had  been  victor  all 


THE   MINISTER   MAKES  LOVE      187 

through.  While  she  had  been  wasting  time  fooling 
him,  De  Lussac,  locked  away  in  the  Bastile,  had 
been  checkmated  and  prevented  from  returning  to 
Versailles.  The  document  was  no  doubt  still  lying 
in  the  top  right-hand  drawer  of  Monsieur  de  Riche- 
lieu's bureau  and  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  was  no 
doubt  still  seated  at  the  bureau,  engaged  in  dealing 
with  his  half-yearly  accounts.  At  any  moment  he 
might  take  out  his  keys,  attempt  to  open  the  drawer, 
find  it  already  open,  and  discover  the  document. 
He  would  at  once  know  the  culprit ;  no  one  but  De 
Lussac  had  been  given  access  to  the  room. 

She  saw  De  Lussac  with  his  weapon  taken  from 
him.  She  saw  him  a  hopeless  prisoner  for  life. 
That  terrible  contract  which  involved  the  dishonor 
of  the  king  was  a  state  secret,  and  the  man  who  had 
knowledge  of  it  would  never  be  forgiven  his  knowl- 
edge. De  Lussac  must  be  freed  at  once.  It  was 
quite  possible  that  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  might  not 
open  the  drawer  of  his  bureau  that  night,  or  even  on 
the  morrow.  She  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  pointed 
to  twenty  minutes  past  eight. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PERFIDY  OF  PLACIDE 

SHE  turned  to  De  Sartines. 
"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "you  have  spoken  the 
truth.    The  Comte  de  Lussac  is  my  lover." 

"Well,  Madame,"  replied  De  Sartines,  walking  to 
the  bureau  and  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff,  "what  is  that 
to  me  ?" 

"Listen  to  me,  Monsieur.  To-day,  when  I  dis- 
covered that  you  had  visited  my  house,  I  was  filled 
with-anger.  I  said  to  myself,  'I  will  make  Monsieur 
de  Sartines  pay  for  this.  I  will  make  him  give  me 
a  hundred  thousand  francs,  which  I  shall  present  to 
the  poor  of  Paris  as  a  present  from  Monsieur  de 
Sartines.'  Monsieur,  my  anger  against  you  is  van- 
ished. Take  my  weapon." 

She  took  the  handkerchief  from  her  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

It  was  not  till  then  that  she  appreciated  the  cold 
and  polished  brutality  of  this  nobleman,  who,  with- 
out a  word,  and  taking  the  handkerchief  gingerly, 

188 


THE   PERFIDY   OF    PLACIDE        189 

as  though  it  were  contaminated,  cast  it  into  the 
waste-paper  box  by  the  bureau. 

Then  he  took  his  seat  at  the  bureau  and,  as  if  for- 
getful of  her  presence,  began  to  write.  She  came 
up  close  to  him. 

"Monsieur." 

"Well,  Madame?" 

"You  have  to-day  imprisoned  an  innocent  man,  a 
man  who  has  no  fault  but  his  own  goodness,  a  man 
incapable  of  real  danger  to  the  state.  Ah,  Monsieur, 
I  know  him !  He  is  a  child  at  heart.  He  may  have 
been  misled,  I  do  not  know;  but  this  I  know,  he  is 
unworthy  of  prison.  Monsieur — 

De  Sartines  looked  suddenly  up. 

"Madame,  I  am  engaged  on  my  correspondence; 
our  interview  is  closed.  You  are  talking  of  some 
one.  To  whom  do  you  refer  ?" 

"Monsieur,"  she  went  on  patiently,  "I  refer  to 
the  Comte  de  Lussac." 

"Madame,  if  you  wish  for  information  on  that 
point,  I  must  refer  you  to  Monsieur  Beauregard.  It 
is  an  affair  of  the  police." 

"Alas,  Monsieur,"  said  she,  "I  know  that  I  have 
offended  you,  and  for  that  I  beg  your  pardon.  You 
are  all-powerful — " 

Then,  in  broken  tones  that  would  have  moved  the 


190       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

heart  of  a  statue,  she  began  to  plead  for  the  liberty 
of  De  Lussac.  The  thought  had  come  to  her  that  if 
she  could  only  get  him  freed  she  would  take  him 
away  at  once  across  the  frontier.  If  she  could  only 
get  him  freed  before  the  fact  was  known  that  he  had 
tampered  with  the  document  and  discovered  its  con- 
tents, she  would  take  him  away,  leaving  the  docu- 
ment to  look  after  itself.  Full  well  she  knew  that 
the  moment  De  Richelieu  opened  the  top  right-hand 
drawer  of  his  bureau  De  Lussac  was  lost  for  ever. 
So  she  pleaded,  in  that  wonderful  voice  which  had 
above  all  voices  the  power  to  reach  the  heart,  and 
De  Sartines,  sitting  with  his  elbow  resting  upon  the 
bureau,  seemed  plunged  deep  in  thought. 

He  seemed  attentively  considering  what  she  was 
saying,  weighing  the  points  one  by  one;  sometimes 
he  would  make  notes  on  a  piece  of  paper. 

She  ceased,  and  pen  still  in  hand,  the  minister  of 
police  remained  still  silent  and  lost  in  thought. 
Then,  breaking  from  his  reverie,  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  and  struck  a  bell  that  was  standing  before  him 
on  the  bureau. 

Germain  entered  the  room. 

"Yes,  Monsieur?" 

De  Sartines  referred  to  the  notes  he  had  been 
making. 


THE   PERFIDY   OF    PLACIDE        191 

"I  have  been  going  over  in  my  mind  the  whole  of 
Monsieur  de  Tracey's  complaints.  When  he  calls, 
you  can  tell  him  that  the  matter  does  not  fall  within 
the  province  of  the  ministry  of  police." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

Madame  Linden  caught  her  breath  as  though 
some  one  had  struck  her. 

"Monsieur!"  she  exclaimed,  as  Germain  left  the 
room. 

"Why,  Madame,  you  are  there  still !"  said  De  Sar- 
tines.  "Well,  what  is  it  now?" 

"You  will  not,  then,  listen  to  me?" 

"Madame,  it  seems  I  have  been  listening  to  you 
for  half  an  hour.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say.  Our 
interview  is  closed." 

"You  refuse  to  hear  me.  You  treat  me  with  dis- 
dain. Very  well  then,  Monsieur."  She  paused.  A 
vivid  idea  had  suddenly  flashed  across  her  brain. 
"Very  well,  then,  Monsieur.  From  this  moment  we 
are  enemies.  Beware!" 

She  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Beware!  No  man  has  ever  insulted  me  as  you 
have  done.  Beware!" 

He  turned  his  head.  She  had  vanished  from  the 
room.  Outside  she  passed  along  the  corridor  like  a 
whirlwind,  dow;-1  the  stairs,  across  the  hall,  where 


192        THE    MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

the  guards  and  Swiss  soldiers  were  on  duty,  to  her 
carriage,  which  was  still  waiting. 

"Home,"  she  cried  to  the  coachman,  "and  as 
quickly  as  you  can  drive." 

She  looked  at  her  watch.  It  pointed  to  half  past 
eight.  The  project  she  had  suddenly  evolved  was  a 
dangerous  and  desperate  one.  If  successful,  it 
would  free  De  Lussac  and  make  her  absolutely  mis- 
tress of  the  situation.  If  it  failed,  it  would  make 
her  a  state  prisoner  for  life.  Vienna  could  not  pro- 
tect her  from  the  effects  of  its  failure.  Yet  she  did 
not  shrink  from  it  in  the  least,  and  her  brave  heart 
knew  no  fear.  Instead,  she  felt  intoxicated  with  the 
desperate  nature  of  the  venture  in  which  she  was 
about  to  risk  all. 

Arrived  at  her  house,  she  ordered  the  coachman 
back  to  Vaudrin's  to  say  that  a  traveling-carriage 
and  two  swift  horses  should  be  sent  round  at  once. 
She  rang  for  Placide,  but  he  had  not  yet  returned. 

Then  she  put  herself  into  the  hands  of  Rosine, 
and  'as  nine  o'clock  was  striking  she  came  down- 
stairs fully  dressed  in  evening  attire,  covered  by  a 
light  cloak.  She  got  into  the  carriage  that  was  wait- 
ing for  her,  and  as  Rosine  closed  the  door  on  her 
she  cried  to  the  coachman,  "Versailles ;  to  the  house 
of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Richelieu." 


THE   PERFIDY   OF    PLACIDE        193 

Meanwhile  De  Sartines,  left  to  himself,  sat  for  a 
moment  deep  in  thought.  Then  he  struck  the  bell 
sharply  on  the  desk,  and  Germain  answered  the 
summons. 

"Well,  fool!"  cried  his  master,  "what  made  you 
answer  me  like  that  when  I  asked  you  if  you  had 
not  overheard  our  conversation?" 

"I  was  in  doubt  as  to  your  meaning,  Monsieur, 
and  when  in  doubt  I  always  tell  the  truth." 

"Ass !  could  you  not  see  that  I  was  suggesting  to 
you  a  lie  ?  Truth !  What  have  you  to  do  with  the 
truth?  Stay;  who  is  that?  Entrez" 

It  was  Monsieur  Beauregard. 

"Monsieur,"  said  Beauregard,  "an  old  man  has 
just  called.  He  asks  for  an  interview  with  you.  I 
have  spoken  to  him  but  he  will  not  give  his  busi- 
ness." 

"Tell  him  to  begone,"  said  De  Sartines.  "I  have 
finished  business  for  the  day  and  am  going  to  sup- 
per." 

"Very  well,  Monsieur.  Only  I  ought  to  tell  you 
he  is  the  servant  of  Madame  Linden,  who  has  just 
left  you." 

"Ah,  her  servant  you  say?  That  is  another  mat- 
ter. Have  him  shown  up." 

Beauregard  vanished  and  a  moment  later  the  door 


194        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

opened  again,   and   Placide  made  his  appearance, 
shown  in  by  the  usher. 

Placide  entered  cautiously,  glancing  about  him  as 
an  animal  glances  who  fears  a  trap.  As  the  door 
closed  on  him  he  bowed  to  De  Sartines,  and  then 
stood  hat  in  hand  without  advancing  farther. 

"You  wish  to  see  me?"  said  the  minister  of  police, 
envisaging  the  old  fellow  for  a  moment.  "You  wish 
to  see  me?" 

"That,  your  Excellency,"  replied  Placide,  "is  my 
desire." 

"It  is  accomplished.    What  next  ?" 
"I  wish,  Monsieur,  to  render  you  a  service." 
"Then  render  it  by  explaining  yourself  quickly, 
for  my  time  is  not  my  own." 

"Monsieur,"    replied    Placide,    coming    forward 
closer  to  De  Sartines,  "I  am  in  the  service  of  Ma- 
dame la  Baronne  Linden.    I  am  also  in  her  secrets." 
He  laughed  and  paused  for  a  moment. 
"Proceed." 

"I  am  not  satisfied  with  my  mistress,  Monsieur." 

"A  common  complaint  with  servants.     Proceed." 

"The  other  day,  Monsieur,  I  discovered  that  the 

police   were    making   inquiries    about    Madame   la 

Baronne.     An  agent  of  police,  disguised,  attempted 

to  enter  the  house  by  making  love  to  Rosine,  the 


THE    PERFIDY   OF    PLACIDE        195 

maid.  She  repulsed  him,  and  I  had  the  honor  to  as- 
sist, with  a  bucket  of  water.  Well,  Monsieur,  I 
said  to  myself,  if  the  police  are  so  anxious  to  find 
out  something  about  Madame  la  Baronne,  there  is 
perhaps  something  to  find  out." 

"One  moment,"  said  De  Sartines.  "What  is  your 
name?" 

"Placide,  Monsieur." 

"Go  on." 

"Well,  Monsieur,  heaven  has  given  me  a  fine 
nose  for  hunting  out  intrigues,  and  I  said  to  myself, 
'Here  is  your  chance  of  obtaining  a  post  in  the  po- 
lice agency,  where  the  pay  is  good.  Monsieur  de 
Sartines  is  trying  to  find  out  something  about 
madame.  Let  us  try  if  we  can't  help  Monsieur  de 
Sartines.  Now,'  I  said  to  myself,  'in  a  case  where 
you  want  to  find  out  anything  about  a  woman,  look 
for  the  man.  Whom  does  madame  favor  most? 
Why,  the  Comte  de  Lussac.' ' 

"Aha!"  said  De  Sartines,  beginning  to  feel  some 
respect  for  the  miserable  old  sinner  who  seemed  to 
glory  in  the  betrayal  of  his  mistress.  "And  did  you 
follow  the  Comte  de  Lussac?" 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur.  I  stuck  to  my  mistress.  She 
left  Paris  for  Compiegne,  taking  me  with  her  as 
well  as  the  maid  Rosine.  We  had  scarcely  been  two 


196        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

hours  at  the  Villa  Rose — for  that  was  the  name  of 
the  house  where  we  were  staying — when  a  messen- 
ger from  Paris  arrived  on  horseback,  with  a  note 
for  madame. 

"The  messenger  was  Jasmin,  Monsieur  de  Lus- 
sac's  confidential  servant. 

"I  it  was  who  opened  the  door  and  took  the  note ; 
madame  was  in  her  bath,  and  I  promised  to  deliver 
it  to  her  as  soon  as  she  was  visible. 

"I  opened  the  note,  Monsieur,  and  it  was  of  such 
an  extraordinary  nature  that  I  made  a  fair  copy  of 
the  contents.  This  is  it."  He  took  a  folded  paper 
from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  De  Sartines,  who 
read: 

"To-day  I  am  burying  in  the  earth  of  the  first 
orange-tree  tub  on  the  right  as  you  enter  my  court- 
yard a  packet  of  vital  importance  to  the  S.  de  M. 
Should  I  be  arrested,  or  should  I  die,  show  this  let- 
ter to  Jasmin,  my  valet.  He  is  entirely  to  be  trusted. 
Unearth  the  packet  and  make  use  of  it  as  your  wis- 
dom sees  fit. 

"Signed,  ARMAND  DE  LUSSAC." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  said  De  Sartines,  casting  his  eyes 
again  over  this  most  vital  piece  of  writing.  "And 
what  did  you  do  with  the  original?" 

"I  gave  it  to  Madame  la  Baronne,"  replied  Pla- 


THE   PERFIDY   OF    PLACIDE        197 

cide.  "It  was  only  the  egg-shell.  I  had  abstracted 
the  meat." 

"Did  she  notice  that  you  had  tampered  with  the 
letter?" 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur;  I  am  not  such  a  bungler  in 
my  work  as  that." 

De  Sartines  had  now  in  his  hand  the  means  of  ob- 
taining those  papers  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi 
which  he  knew  to  exist  and  for  which  he  had  been 
hungering.  He  had  not  only  De  Lussac  fully  in  his 
power,  but  De  Lussac's  mistress,  the  Baronne  Lin- 
den, by  attainment.  But  the  deep  satisfaction  that 
rilled  his  mind  left  him  quite  unenthusiastic  as  to 
Placide,  the  fount  and  origin  of  this  precious  infor- 
mation. 

The  perfidy  of  Placide  did  not  occur  to  him  at  all 
in  relation  to  the  information,  nor  did  it  mar  his  sat- 
isfaction. But  when  it  came  to  the  question  of  re- 
ward, Placide's  perfidy  shocked  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines and  chilled  his  tone  as  he  said,  "This  informa- 
tion may  be  important  as  a  means  for  carrying  out 
the  ends  of  justice.  We  shall  see." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  replied  Placide,  without  mov- 
ing an  inch.  "I  think  you  will  find  it  most  import- 
ant. And  now  to  the  small  question  of  my  reward." 

"You  have  done  your  duty  to  the  state,"  replied 


198        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

the  minister.  "Let  your  reward  consist  in  the  satis- 
faction of  that  thought.  There  is  no  question  of  re- 
ward. All  citizens  are  required  to  assist  the  police 
in  protecting  the  social  order.  Well,  what  are  you 
waiting  for?" 

The  old  villain  seemed  completely  taken  aback  by 
this  cool  pronouncement;  his  beard  wagged,  his 
mouth  opened  and  closed.  Then,  to  De  Sartines' 
astonishment,  he  began  to  laugh. 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  said  he,  "the  only  reward  I  re- 
quire, is  for  you  to  say,  'Placide,  you  are  in  my 
service,'  with,  of  course,  the  ordinary  police  pay  for 
my  services,  which,  added  to  my  salary,  will  not  be 
so  bad." 

"Oh,"  said  De  Sartines,  "you  can  serve  me  every 
day,  if  you  like,  as  you  served  me  to-day.  Ma  foi, 
if  that  is  what  you  want,  the  thing  is  done.  Placide, 
you  are  in  my  service." 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur." 

"Now  you  can  go,"  said  De  Sartines.  "Continue 
to  keep  your  eyes  open  and  apply  to  Monsieur  Beau- 
regard  for  your  salary,  starting  from  yesterday.  He 
will  pay  you  weekly  in  advance." 

Placide  left  the  room,  and  De  Sartines  summoned 
Monsieur  Beauregard. 

"Monsieur  Beauregard,"  said  De  Sartines,  "go  at 


THE   PERFIDY    OF    PLACIDE        199 

once  with  half  a  company  of  guards  to  the  house  of 
Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Lussac,  in  the  Rue  de  Valois. 
Surround  it,  arrest  all  the  servants,  place  a  man  in 
each  room ;  should  your  entrance  be  contested,  break 
the  doors  down. 

"Immediately  you  enter  the  courtyard,  examine 
the  first  orange-tree  tub  on  the  right;  examine  it 
carefully,  to  see  if  the  soil  has  been  disturbed. 
Then,  with  your  own  hands  remove  the  soil  and 
bring  me  the  packet  of  papers  you  will  find  con- 
cealed there.  It  is  of  vital  importance.  It  is  con- 
cealed in  the  mold.  Do  not  fear  to  dirty  your 
hands." 

Beauregard  laughed. 

"And  the  servants,  Monsieur?" 

"Have  them  all  removed  under  a  strong  guard  to 
the  conciergerie ;  and  by  the  way,  that  old  scoundrel 
who  has  just  left  the  room — enter  him  on  your  pay- 
list  as  an  agent,  and  pay  him  the  first-class  agent's 
salary  weekly  in  advance." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

Beauregard  saluted  and  went  out. 


CHAPTER  III 

ROSINE   TELLS   TALES 

PLACIDE  left  the  Hotel  de  Sartines  and  took 
his  way  to  the  Rue  Coq  Heron. 

He  had  no  need  to  ring.  Rosine  was  at  the  gate, 
taking  the  air,  glancing  up  and  down  the  street.  It 
was  a  lovely  evening,  warm  and  perfumed  with  the 
scent  of  flowers  from  the  little  gardens  behind  the 
Rue  Coq  Heron. 

The  instant  Placide's  eyes  fell  on  Rosine  standing 
at  the  gate  of  the  courtyard  he  knew  that  Madame 
la  Baronne  must  be  out. 

"Well,  idler,"  said  Rosine,  "where  have  you  been? 
Ma  foi!  but  when  Madame  la  Baronne  returns  you 
will  catch  it." 

"So  madame  is  out?    Where  has  she  gone  to?" 

"Versailles."  She  moved  back,  for  Placide,  with 
a  pretense  of  mock  gallantry,  had  attempted  to  slip 
his  arm  around  her  waist.  Placide  was  a  fine  exam- 
ple of  the  snuffy  old  man-servant  common  in  the 
families  of  the  lesser  nobility  of  that  age.  The  old 
retainer,  a  product  of  feudalism,  impudent  with 

200 


ROSINE  TELLS  TALES      201 

family  pride,  insolent  to  the  lower  orders,  making 
love  to  the  maids  and  stealing  his  master's  snuff; 
open  of  speech,  garrulous,  and  licensed  to  be  drunk 
on  holidays ;  often  dominating  the  household  as  old 
servants  sometimes  will. 

"Oh,  Versailles!  And  where  has  she  gone  to  at 
Versailles?" 

"What  is  that  to  you,  impudence?" 

"Nothing,  for  you  are  not  speaking  the  truth. 
Madame  la  Baronne  has  gone  to  the  reception  of 
Madame  de  Stenlis." 

"I  tell  you,  madame  has  gone  to  Versailles,  to  the 
house  of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Richelieu;  gone  in  a 
carriage  with  two  horses  and  with  directions  to  the 
driver  not  to  spare  them.  Well,  what  do  you  say  to 
that?" 

"Only  that  you  have  told  me  all  I  want  to  know," 
replied  Placide,  turning  on  his  heel.  "I'm  off." 

"Whereto?" 

"A  cabaret.  If  madame  is  gone  to  Versailles,  she 
won't  be  back  for  a  good  time  yet." 

Rosine  grumbled  as  she  watched  him  depart. 

"And  the  silver?"  she  cried  after  him.  "You  have 
not  cleaned  it." 

"Ma  foi"  said  Placide,  "clean  it  yourself.  The 
exercise  will  do  you  good." 


202        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

He  walked  off. 

He  left  the  Rue  Coq  Heron  and  passed  through 
several  streets  till  he  reached  the  Rue  de  la  Ville 
L'Eveque,  where  he  entered  the  Couronne,  a  post- 
ing-inn possessing  one  of  the  best  stables  in  Paris. 

He  had  determined  to  follow  the  baroness  to  Ver- 
sailles, and  as  a  stage  was  just  starting,  he  took  his 
place  in  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU 

THAT  evening  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  was  in 
very  good  humor.  He  had  finished  supper 
and  his  digestion  was  behaving  itself ;  he  had  got  rid 
of  his  half-yearly  accounts  with  the  assistance  of 
Raffe,  examined  minutely  his  financial  position  and 
found  himself  with  two  thousand  louis  more  in  hand 
than  he  had  expected ;  besides,  politics  were  shaping 
favorably.  De  Choiseul,  not  destined  to  fall  for  an- 
other seven  months,  seemed  on  the  point  of  falling, 
and  the  fall  of  De  Choiseul  as  minister  meant,  every 
one  said,  the  elevation  of  Monsieur  de  Richelieu. 

He  had  supped  alone,  and  after  supper,  followed 
by  Raffe,  he  returned  to  his  library. 

"Ma  foil"  said  the  marechal,  as  he  entered  the 
room,  "I  have  had  over  seventy  years'  experience  of 
life,  only  to  learn  that  he  who  sups  alone  sups  best. 
In  company  we  eat  too  much,  to  cover  our  boredom, 
and  drink  too  much,  to  liven  our  wits." 

Raffe  laughed  the  little  noiseless  laugh  peculiar  to 
203 


204        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

him.  Monsieur  de  Richelieu's  philosophy  always  left 
him  quite  cynical. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "if  monsieur  will  pursue  politics 
he  must  expect  what  he  finds." 

"And  what  do  you  think  he  may  expect  to  find- 
grumbler?" 

"Oh,  ma  foil  what  else  but  dull  dinner-parties  and 
indigestions,  not  to  speak  of  headaches,  pitfalls, 
traps  and  rogues." 

"It's  true,"  said  De  Richelieu,  taking  his  seat  at 
the  bureau.  "Every  politician  is  a  rogue,  with  this 
difference,  that  whereas  most  rogues  are  amusing, 
all  politicians  are  dull." 

"And  since  monsieur  is  a  politician — " 

"I  am  not  It  is  true  that  yesterday,  when  De 
Choiseul  seemed  on  the  point  of  falling,  as  he  will 
fall  some  day,  I  was  prepared,  for  the  good  of 
France  and  not  for  any  personal  reason — I  say  I 
was  prepared — " 

"To  take  his  portfolio." 

"Yes,  for  the  good  of  France." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Raffe,  with  another  silent  little 
laugh.  "For  the  good  of  France,  the  old  motto  of 
the  politicians." 

"Silence!"  said  De  Richelieu.  "For  what  other 
reason  would  I  mix  myself  up  in  affairs  of  state? 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     205 

What  ambitions  have  I,  who  possess  everything? 
An  old  man — " 

"True,"  said  Raffe. 

"Yet  not  too  old  to  strike  a  blow — " 

"For  the  good  of  France." 

"For  the  good  of  France.  All  the  same,  there  are 
younger  men.  Why  should  I  waste  the  last  years  of 
my  life  struggling  against  rogues,  avoiding  pitfalls, 
laboring  under  the  weight  of  a  portfolio  heavy  with 
the  mistakes  of  my  predecessor?  No,  mordieu!  give 
me  peace,  my  hawks  and  hounds,  quietude  and  the 
friends  I  care  for:  all  better  than  a  dozen  port- 
folios." 

"True,"  said  Raffe,  "but  it  seems  to  me,  Mon- 
sieur, that  there  is  some  one  at  the  door." 

Some  one,  in  fact,  had  knocked  at  the  door.  It 
was  a  servant,  bearing  in  his  hand  a  heavy  gold  sal- 
ver, upon  which  lay  a  letter  with  a  yellow  seal.  The 
king  alone  sealed  his  letters  with  yellow  wax,  and 
De  Richelieu's  eyes  lighted  up  as  he  stretched  out 
his  hand  and  took  the  letter. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  read : 

"Dear  Marechal, 

"Our  friend  De  C.  is  very  ill;  so  hold  yourself  in 
readiness  should  the  worst  occur.  L." 


206        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

The  note  was  addressed  from  Luciennes.  His 
majesty,  who  had  been  seized  with  a  scribbling  fit, 
had  despatched  it  by  special  messenger.  It  had  no 
significance  at  all;  the  position  of  De  Choiseul  had 
not  altered  a  whit  since  yesterday  but  it  amused  the 
mischief-loving  king  to  excite  hopes  doomed  to  de- 
struction, and  certainly  it  would  have  amused  him 
to  watch  the  little  comedy  that  followed. 

De  Richelieu,  having  read  the  note,  turned  to 
Raffe. 

"De  Choiseul  has  fallen." 

"Oho!"  said  Raffe. 

"He  is  not  quite  overturned,  but  a  few  more  days 
will  do  it." 

"Well,  Monsieur,"  replied  Raffe,  "I  do  not  see 
how  that  affects  us  who  have  declared  for  a  quiet 
life,  who  care  nothing  for  portfolios,  who  would 
avoid  the  struggle  against  rogues — " 

"I  am  asked  to  hold  myself  in  readiness,"  went 
on  the  marechal,  without  regarding  the  other's 
words.  "The  king's  mind  is  made  up." 

"Of  contrarieties." 

"He  has  chosen  me  as  De  Choiseul's  successor. 
Well,  grumbler,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  From  all 
the  men  in  France  I  am  chosen." 

"To  follow  Monsieur  de  Choiseul." 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU    207 

"No — to  precede  him." 

"Well,  Monsieur,"  replied  Raffe,  "I  congratulate 
you  on  the  compliment  his  majesty  has  paid  you. 
Your  knowledge  of  men  will,  doubtless,  stand  you 
in  good  stead  when  that  heavy  portfolio  comes  un- 
der your  arm;  and  your  knowledge  of  women,  and 
if  I  may  say  so,  the  fascination  you  still  exercise 
over  them." 

Raffe  was  De  Richelieu's  bitter  tonic ;  unpleasant 
as  his  raillery  and  cynicism  might  be,  it  was  at  least 
always  sincere;  it  helped  De  Richelieu  to  digest  all 
the  poisoned  sugar  of  the  court,  the  falsities  and  the 
absurdities.  But  there  was  one  subject  on  which 
even  Raffe,  privileged  as  he  was,  dared  scarcely  to 
touch,  and  that  was  the  love-affairs  of  his  master. 

When  a  man  is  nearly  eighty,  his  amours  form  a 
target  that  even  a  blind  man  can  hit,  and  Raffe,  to 
do  him  justice,  rarely  expended  his  ammunition  on 
so  easy  a  mark. 

"I  have  some  knowledge  of  women,"  said  De 
Richelieu  stiffly,  "and  what  is  better  than  that,  though 
I  have  some  influence  over  them  they  have  none 
over  me.  It  is  a  power,  that — though,  cordieu!  one 
pays  for  it  by  growing  old.  Had  De  Choiseul  made 
a  study  of  women  as  I  have  done,  he  would  not  now 
be  on  the  eve  of  destruction." 


208        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Listen,  Monsieur,"  said  Raffe,  raising  his  hand. 
"Is  not  that  a  carriage?" 

Faint  and  far-away  came  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels  on  gravel.  It  ceased.  A  carriage  rapidly 
driven  had  turned  into  the  avenue  way  and  drawn 
up  before  the  door. 

Coming  as  it  did  on  the  message  of  the  king,  this 
arrival  of  some  one  unknown  seemed  ominous.  De 
Richelieu,  sitting  sidewise  in  his  chair,  listened  in- 
tently. Notwithstanding  his  age,  his  campaigns,  his 
affectation  of  weariness  with  the  world,  the  old 
marechal  was  filled  with  the  burning  ambitions  that 
most  men  leave  behind  them  at  forty.  To  be  chief 
minister  of  state,  to  match  in  stature  the  great  Car- 
dinal Richelieu,  to  complete  in  diplomacy  the  won- 
derful career  that  had  commenced  in  war,  this  was 
the  chief  ambition  of  the  Due  de  Richelieu  at  the 
present  moment. 

A  knock  came  to  the  door  and  the  same  servant 
who  had  brought  the  letter  from  the  king  entered. 
"Monsieur,"  said  the  lackey,  "a  lady  to  see  you." 
"A  lady  at  this  hour?    What  is  her  name?" 
"Madame  la  Baronne  Linden,  Monsieur." 
"Mordieu!"  said  the  marechal.    "  Tis  late  for  a 
visit  of  this  sort.    Show  her  in." 

Raffe  began  to  move  toward  the  door. 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     209 

"You  are  going?" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  but  I  leave  a  piece  of  advice  be- 
hind me.  This  is  a  woman  to  beware  of."  Even  as 
he  spoke  the  door  reopened,  and  Madame  Linden 
was  shown  in.  As  she  entered  Raffe  made  his  es- 
cape. 

De  Richelieu,  who  had  risen,  bowed  to  the  bar- 
oness. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Madame." 

"Not  to  me,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  baroness, 
taking  the  chair  indicated  by  him,  "since  I  have 
come  from  Paris  with  the  express  purpose  of  seeing 
you." 

"I  feel  honored,"  replied  the  courtly  old  mare- 
chal ;  "deeply  honored,  charmed.  And  to  what  mo- 
tive may  I  attribute  so  long  a  journey  at  such  an 
hour? — for  Paris  is  five  leagues  from  my  gates, 
Madame." 

The  baroness  laughed  in  almost  an  hysterical 
manner. 

"Five!  Why,  Monsieur,  it  seemed  to  me  fifty, 
alone,  shut  up  in  the  darkness  of  my  carriage,  with 
no  companion  other  than  my  own  thoughts  and  the 
fear  of  bandits." 

"Yes,  yes ;  but  the  motive,  dear  lady,  that  forced 
you  to  confront  these  fears?" 


210       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"The  motive,  Monsieur,  was  to  make  a  confes- 
sion and  to  ask  a  favor." 

"And  the  confession?  I  will  take  that  first," 
laughed  Monsieur  le  Marechal,  sitting  down  in  an 
easy-chair  close  to  her  and  producing  his  snuff-box. 

"Monsieur,  I  am  in  love." 

De  Richelieu  opened  the  lid  of  his  snuff-box, 
laughing  slightly  as  if  a  little  joke  had  escaped 
from  it. 

"Then,  Madame,"  said  he,  "there  is  at  least  one 
man  living  who  can  say  with  truth,  'I  am  the  hap- 
piest man  in  France !' ' 

"Alas,  Monsieur,  no;  far  from  being  the  happi- 
est, he  is  the  most  miserable." 

She  watched  his  hands  playing  with  the  snuff- 
box; hands  still  beautiful  despite  wars  and  years, 
and  white,  almost,  as  the  ruffles  of  Mechlin  lace  that 
half  hid  them. 

"The  most  miserable !" 

"Alas,  yes,  Monsieur." 

"And  his  name,  this  extraordinary  person?" 

"The  Comte  Armand  de  Lussac,  Monsieur,  your 
kinsman." 

She  had  no  hope  at  all  of  immediate  help  from 
De  Richelieu,  yet,  as  she  spoke  the  words,  anxiety 
almost  to  suffocation  seized  her,  for  she  knew  that 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU    211 

by  the  manner  of  the  marechal  when  he  heard  De 
Lussac's  name  she  would  know  whether  he  had  op- 
ened the  drawer  and  discovered  that  it  had  been 
tampered  with. 

De  Richelieu,  however,  showed  no  sign  at  all  of 
anger  at  the  name,  and  she  knew  by  his  manner  that 
a"  I  was  still  right.  She  could  have  laughed  aloud, 
so  great  was  her  relief.  Hope,  the  water  of  the 
strong  and  the  wine  of  the  weak,  sent  the  blood 
coursing  more  rapidly  through  her  veins,  heighten- 
ing the  color  of  her  cheek  and  the  brightness  of  her 
eyes  and  lending  the  last  touch  of  perfection  to  her 
beauty. 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  the  old  warrier,  warming 
to  her  charms,  "what  will  you  have?  You  love  a 
philosopher,  that  is  to  say,  a  creature  who  is  misera- 
ble when  other  men  are  happy,  and  happy  when 
other  men  are  miserable;  who  lives  in  a  tub  like 
Monsieur  Diogenes  when  other  men  live  in  houses." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  she,  "Monsieur  de  Lussac  to- 
day, at  the  order  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  has  been 
seized  and  imprisoned  in  the  fortress  of  the  Bas- 
tile." 

De  Richelieu  started  and  almost  dropped  the 
snuff-box  with  which  he  was  still  toying. 

"Armand  imprisoned  in  the  Bastile!    Why,  he  is 


212        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

still  my  guest !  We  had  dejeuner  together  to-day ; 
it  is  true,  he  went  to  Paris  this  afternoon,  but  I  ex- 
pected him  to  return  to-night." 

"Monsieur,  what  I  have  said  is  true,  for  I  had  it 
from  the  lips  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  himself." 

The  marechal  took  another  pinch  of  snuff.  The 
news  did  not  altogether  displease  him  nor  did  it  al- 
together astonish  him.  The  king  had  given  him 
very  direct  hints  as  to  the  political  health  of  his 
kinsman;  there  was  no  disgrace  in  imprisonment 
under  a  lettre  de  cachet,  and  he  felt  that  a  course  of 
severe  treatment  was  just  the  medicine  required  to 
bring  his  cousin  from  philosophy  to  reason.  Pro- 
foundly selfish,  he  had  no  pity  at  all  for  the  personal 
feelings  of  the  captive  on  the  matter. 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  he,  "now  that  I  have  heard 
your  confession,  I  can  guess  your  request.  You 
wish  me  to  intercede  for  this  unfortunate  philoso- 
pher. Well,  you  may  rest  assured  that  I  will  place 
the  whole  matter  before  the  king.  It  will  take  a  few 
days,  no  doubt.  I  do  not  know  De  Sartines'  reason 
for  this  act.  Armand,  I  believe,  has  been  mixing 
himself  up  with  those  confounded  philosophers,  but 
he  is  a  gentleman,  and  I  am  sure  has  done  nothing 
of  a  nature  that  will  preclude  me  from  pressing  his 
claims  before  the  king." 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     213 

The  baroness  tried  to  imagine  the  marechal's  face 
had  he  known  that  here,  but  a  few  hours  ago,  De 
Lussac  had  tried  to  rob  him  of  a  document  involv- 
ing the  honor  of  the  king.  She  knew  that  all  hope 
of  help  from  De  Richelieu  was  vain:  days  must 
elapse  in  the  most  favorable  circumstances  before 
the  young  man  could  be  freed,  and  during  those  days 
the  marechal  would  most  certainly  discover  that 
some  one  had  been  to  his  drawer,  found  the  secret 
panel,  and  attempted  to  abstract  the  document.  His 
keen  mind  would  at  once  know  who  the  culprit  was, 
and  De  Lussac's  fate  would  be  imprisonment  for 
life. 

De  Richelieu,  for  his  own  sake,  would  be  com- 
pelled to  act  in  the  matter  in  such  a  way  that  there 
would  be  no  chance  of  the  scandal  against  the  king 
ever  escaping. 

The  baroness  had  used  her  appeal  for  De  Lussac 
only  as  the  opening  gambit  in  the  desperate  and 
dangerous  game  for  his  life  which  was  now  begin- 
ning. 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur,"  said  she.  "I  knew  that 
in  appealing  to  you  I  should  not  be  wrong."  Then, 
seeming  to  dismiss  De  Lussac  from  her  mind,  "But, 
Monsieur,  I  had  another  motive  for  my  journey  to- 
night— "  She  paused. 


214        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Yes,  Madame?" 

"Monsieur,  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  That  mo- 
tive was — myself." 

"A  most  charming  motive,  but  one  which  I  can 
not,  yet,  fully  understand — " 

"I  had  more  truly  said  self — and  more  truly,  sel- 
fish. Surely,  Monsieur,  that  is  a  motive  that  any 
politician  can  understand?  You  see  I  am  frank." 

"I  hear  you  say  so,  Madame,  and  you  alarm  me." 

"In  what  way?" 

"Why,  Madame,"  laughed  De  Richelieu,  "you  are 
the  first  woman  I  have  ever  heard  admitting  the  fact 
of  her  selfishness.  It  does  not  seem  natural." 

"And  it  seems  to  me,"  replied  the  baroness  with 
a  little  grimace,  "that  I  am  the  first  human  being  to 
whom  Monsieur  le  Marechal  Due  de  Richelieu  has 
admitted  the  fact  that  he  is  capable  of  being  fright- 
ened." She  rose  to  her  feet.  "Monsieur,  I  will  go, 
for  at  this  rate  we  shall  soon  have  no  secrets  to  hide 
from  one  another.  You  are  dangerous  to  me,  I  am 
dangerous  to  you."  She  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Stay,  Madame,"  cried  De  Richelieu,  perplexed 
and  fascinated,  feeling  that  there  was  something 
more  personal  to  him  in  the  visit  of  the  charming 
creature  than  an  attempt  to  enlist  him  in  the  cause 
of  De  Lussac.  "One  moment." 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU    215 

He  had  risen  with  her. 

"For  what?"  asked  she,  pausing. 

"For  what?  Petite  mysterieuse !  For  what  did 
you  come  these  five  leagues  ?  Why  did  you  face  the 
darkness,  the  fear  of  bandits?" 

"Ma  foi,"  replied  she,  her  hand  upon  the  door- 
handle. "It  seems  to  me  I  came  to  confess  that  I 
was  selfish,  to  make  you  confess  that  you  were  capa- 
ble of  fear,  and  all  in  the  first  few  minutes  of  our 
interview.  Heavens!  Monsieur,  as  I  said  a  few 
moments  ago,  if  our  interview  were  to  last  an  hour, 
at  this  rate,  we  should  have  nothing  to  hide  one  from 
the  other." 

"You  perplex  me,"  said  the  marechal,  now  com- 
pletely fascinated  but  not  knowing  how  to  take  her. 

She  laughed.  "There  you  are  again,  Monsieur! 
More  admissions  of  weakness.  Monsieur  de  Riche- 
lieu, who  reads  women  as  other  men  read  books, 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu,  the  most  astute  man  in 
France,  perplexed  by  an  adventuress!" 

"Adventuress !" 

"There,  again!"  cried  the  baroness,  opening  the 
door  as  if  to  escape.  "Another  confession!  O 
Monsieur,  let  me  go,  for  if  we  remain  longer  to- 
gether this  interview  will  be  destructive  to  both  our 
self-respects." 


216       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

De  Richelieu  took  her  firmly  by  the  hand,  closed 
the  door  and  led  her  back  to  her  chair. 

"Extraordinary  and  charming  woman,"  said  the 
old  warrior  as  she  let  herself  be  led  like  a  child. 
"You  are  not  now  talking  to  Monsieur  de  Richelieu, 
but  to  the  marechal  of  France,  who  is  at  your  -com- 
mands, and  who  commands  you." 

"I  obey  the  conqueror  of  Mahon." 

"Then,  Madame,  as  a  good  soldier,  I  command 
you  to  speak.  Why  did  you  come  to  me  to-night?" 

"Monsieur,  I  have  forgotten." 

"Forgotten !" 

"I  ought  to  say,  I  do  not  choose  to  remember.  I 
would  rather  forget.  Monsieur,  I  have  changed  my 
mind.  When  I  came  to  you  to-night  I  came  on  ac- 
count of  poor  Monsieur  de  Lussac,  but  I  admit  I 
had  the  thought  of  asking  for  a  favor  for  myself  at 
the  all  but  royal  hands  of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu. Well,  Monsieur,  when  it  comes  to  the  point,  my 
courage  is  not  there  to  meet  me.  And  I  say  to  my- 
self, 'Why  should  I  ask  a  favor  of  one  who  scarcely 
knows  me?'  Monsieur,  spare  my  feelings." 

"Madame,  spare  mine.  I  burn  to  be  of  service  to 
you.  Speak." 

"Well,  then,  Monsieur,"  said  she,  as  though  sud- 
denly making  up  her  mind,  "I  would  ask  your  help." 


"Against  whom?" 

"Monsieur,  I  am  beset  by  cats." 

"Cats?" 

"Madame  d'Harlancourt  hates  me." 

"Aha!" 

"Madame  de  Stenlis  insulted  me  to-day." 

"Yes?" 

"Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  flung  his  mud  at  me." 

"But  he  is  not  a  cat." 

"No,  Monsieur,  he  is  a  cur." 

De  Richelieu  laughed.  "Well,  Madame,  and  how 
can  I  help  you  against  these  people?" 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  you  have  only  to  raise  your  voice 
and  all  these  creatures  will  fly.  But  wait!  I  said 
to  myself,  who  is  there  in  all  France  that  I  can  ask 
for  a  word  of  friendliness?  All  the  men  of  the 
court  are  men  of  the  world  who  would  not  under- 
stand me.  There  is  only  one,  the  Due  de  Richelieu, 
a!  great  soldier,  a  courtier,  and  a  man  whose  age 
places  him  above  the  futilities  of  the  world." 

De  Richelieu  made  a  little  grimace. 

"I  came  here  to-night  and  I  found  myself  face  to 
face  with  a  man  who,  whatever  his  age  may  be,  is 
not  an  old  man,  and — you  see  I  am  quite  frank  with 
you — I  feared — " 


218        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"O  Madame,  why  should  you  fear?" 

"Alas!  Monsieur — an  unprotected  woman — " 

De  Richelieu  drew  his  chair  close  to  hers  and  took 
her  hand. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "you  have  sought  my  protec- 
tion. Why,  then,  should  you  fear  your  protector  ?" 

"Why — I  fear  myself  too.  Now,  you  see,  I  am 
making  more  confessions.  Believe  me,  it  were  bet- 
ter I  should  go.  The  women  of  the  court  who  at- 
tack me  are  better,  perhaps,  than  the  men  who 
would  defend  me.  I  shall  leave  France.  Monsieur, 
release  my  hand." 

"A  moment." 

"Ah,  yes,  a  moment — that  is  what  men  always 
say  when  they  can  think  of  nothing  better.  Mon- 
sieur, the  moment  has  passed." 

De  Richelieu,  instead  of  releasing  her  hand, 
slipped  down  on  one  knee  beside  her;  the  fire  in 
the  old  marechal's  blood  had  broken  into  flame. 
Taking  the  captured  hand  in  his  left  hand,  his  right 
arm  slipped  round  her  waist. 

"Monsieur,"  said  she,  drawing  slightly  away, 
"that  is  encroachment" 

"No,  Madame,  it  is  the  smallest  waist  in  the 
world." 

"Monsieur,  if  I  were  a  designing  woman  I  might, 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     219 

now,  turn  you  round  my  finger.  Oh,  how  weak  are 
men !" 

"Yes,  Madame,  men  are  weak,  always,  before 
loveliness." 

"Then,  Monsieur,  be  strong." 

"I  am;  at  the  moment,  perhaps,  I  am  the  strong- 
est man  in  France." 

"Then  have  pity  on  the  weakest  woman." 

"I  am  all  pity  for  weakness;  though  I  hold  you 
like  this,  it  is  only  to  symbolize  that  protection 
which  is  at  your  service.  You  say  you  have  women 
enemies  who  are  pressing  you  hard — " 

"No,  Monsieur,  it  is  you  who  are  pressing  me 
hard,  and  when  hard  pressed,  a  woman  cries  out. 
Monsieur,  I  am  about  to  cry  out." 

"A  truce,  then,"  cried  De  Richelieu,  releasing  her 
and  rising  to  his  feet.  The  baroness  also  rose  up. 

"The  conqueror  of  Mahon  calling  for  a  truce! 
Monsieur,  you  are  defeated !" 

"I  acknowledge  it." 

"I  have  wound  you  round  my  finger." 

"Then,  cherie,  wind  me  round  again,"  cried  Rich- 
elieu, laughing,  half  piqued,  fire  in  his  eye,  and  ad- 
vancing victoriously  upon  her. 

This  was  the  real  attack,  and  Madame  Linden, 
with  a  little  scream,  such  as  women  give  when  they 


220        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

see  a  mouse,  outstretched  her  hands  and  held  him 
off.  Struggling  with  him,  half  laughing,  panting, 
she  suddenly  drew  back. 

"Monsieur,"  said  she  in  a  low  voice,  "a  moment 
— there  is  some  one  at  the  door." 

De  Richelieu,  flushed  and  almost  triumphant, 
turned  to  the  door  with  a  terrible  oath.  He  opened 
it.  There  was  no  one. 

"Ah,  Monsieur,  but  there  was,"  said  she,  still  in 
that  muted  voice  that  led  the  hopes  of  the  old  man 
heavenward.  "I  heard  some  one.  Go  into  the  cor- 
ridor and  see  that  we  are  alone." 

He  went  into  the  corridor  and  instantly  she  closed 
the  door  and  locked  it  on  him.  She  flashed  across 
the  room  to  the  bureau.  The  blood  surging  to  her 
face,  ringing  in  her  ears,  she  seized  the  handle  of 
the  top  right-hand  drawer;  it  yielded.  The  drawer 
was  still  open;  she  pulled  it  out;  on  the  top  of  a 
number  of  papers  lay  a  folded  document. 

"Madame,  Madame!"  came  De  Richelieu's  voice 
from  the  other  side  of  the  door,  as  he  tapped  lightly 
with  his  knuckles.  "Open!  Think  if  any  of  the 
servants  were  to  come !" 

"Monsieur,"  cried  she  in  an  even  voice,  as  she  un- 
folded and  glanced  at  the  document.  "Before  I  let 
you  in  I  must  dictate  terms." 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     221 

"Anything,"  replied  the  voice  of  the  due.  "Only 
open." 

She  saw  De  Sartines'  signature,  folded  the  docu- 
ment and  gently  closed  the  drawer.  All  the  time  she 
was  speaking  to  him  in  that  wonderful  level  voice 
that  told  nothing  of  her  emotions  or  her  triumph. 

"Well,  Monsieur,  my  terms  are  simple.  You 
must  promise  me  solemnly  not  to  molest  me." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  promise." 

"Not  to  touch  me."  As  she  advanced  toward  the 
door  she  was  putting  the  document  in  her  pocket. 

"I  promise." 

"On  your  word?" 

"On  my  word." 

"Well,  then,  Monsieur,  I  will  open." 

She  opened  the  door. 

"Mord'ieu,"  cried  De  Richelieu,  half  laughing  and 
more  than  ever  fascinated.  "What  a  position  for 
me  had  one  of  the  servants  come!" 

"And  what  a  position  for  me,  Monsieur !" 

She  was  now  flushed,  laughing,  excited;  as 
though  her  success  had  electrified  her  mind,  of  a 
sudden  a  new  plan  full-born  and  alluring  rose  be- 
fore her.  She  had  triumphed  on  behalf  of  De  Lus- 
sac;  she  had  in  her  hand  a  terrible  weapon.  An- 
other woman  would  have  contented  herself  with  that 


222        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

evening's  work;  not  so  Madame  Linden.  To  strike 
all  her  enemies  with  one  blow,  to  ruin  De  Sartines 
and  to  humble  the  D'Harlancourt,  Madame  de  Sten- 
lis  and  De  Joyeuse  at  the  same  time,  that  was  her 
scheme;  and  she  determined  that  De  Richelieu 
should  help  her  in  it. 

"At  least,  Madame,  you  were  on  the  right  side  of 
the  door,"  replied  the  marechal,  "and  ma  foi,  but 
one  might  fancy  that  loveliness  had  locked  herself 
in  with  you  and  you  had  changed  clothes.  Would 
that  I  had  put  my  eye  to  the  keyhole !" 

"How  do  you  mean,  Monsieur?" 

"Because,  Madame,  before  you  closed  the  door  on 
me  your  beauty  burned  my  eyes;  now  it  blinds 
them." 

"Monsieur,"  said  she,  glancing  at  the  clock,  "it  is 
late,  and  I  have  trespassed  greatly  on  your  time. 
You  have  paid  me  a  hundred  compliments,  you  have 
held  my  hand,  encircled  my  waist,  allowed  yourself 
nearly  all  the  liberties  which  a  man  of  pleasure  takes 
with  a  woman  of  his  sort.  You  have  treated  me,  in 
short,  as  you  have  been  accustomed  to  treat  the 
ladies  of  the  court.  I  am  not  a  woman  of  that  sort. 
I  do  not  love  you,  Monsieur,  I  love  Monsieur  de 
Lussac;  but  always  before  marriage  I  hold  that  a 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     223 

woman  is  free  to  give  or  to  sell  her  favors,  and  that 
it  is  a  matter  entirely  between  herself,  her  con- 
science and  her  maker. 

"I  wish  to  revenge  myself  upon  my  enemies,  and 
if  you  will  help  me,  I  will  say  to  you,  'Monsieur  de 
Richelieu,  when  my  revenge  is  complete,  come  to  me 
and  I  will  pay  you  for  your  assistance  with — ' ' 

"With  what,  Madame?" 

"My  lips." 

"And  what  is  this  assistance  that  you  require, 
Madame?" 

"Oh,  do  not  be  alarmed ;  it  is  very  simple.  I  wish 
you  to  invite  me  to  dejeuner  at  your  house  in  Paris 
to-morrow  at  noon." 

"A  thousand  times,  yes." 

"But,  wait.  I  wish  you  to  invite  some  guests  to 
meet  me." 

De  Richelieu  made  a  grimace. 

"And  the  guests — ?" 

"Are,  first  of  all,  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Sar- 
tines." 

De  Richelieu  laughed. 

"Certainly,  Madame.    Who  else?" 

"Madame  de  Stenlis,  Madame  d'Harlancourt,  and 
Monsieur  de  Joyeuse." 


224        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

De  Richelieu  pursed  his  lips. 

"What  you  ask  is  easy  enough,  Madame.  What 
else?" 

"Nothing  more. 

"But,  Madame,  I  do  not  see  your  point.  I  invite 
you  to  dejeuner  with  these  people;  you  all  come. 
How  does  that  help  you  to  triumph  over  them? 
They  will  all  be  banded  against  you.  You  do  not 
know  these  women  of  the  court  and  what  they  are 
capable  of." 

"I  do,  indeed,  Monsieur ;  but  they  don't  know  me. 
Please  do  as  I  ask  and  leave  me  only  my  wit,  and  I 
will  bring  them  all  literally  to  their  knees/' 

De  Richelieu  rubbed  his  hands,  then  laughed. 
"Mordicu,"  thought  he,  "this  ought  to  be  as  good  as 
the  Comedie  Franqaise!'  Then  to  the  baroness: 
"Madame,  I  will  do  as  you  say.  But  the  invitations 
must  be  despatched  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"Write  them,  Monsieur,"  said  she,  "when  I  am 
gone,  and  your  servant  can  deliver  them  to-morrow 
early.  Make  the  invitation  urgent,  so  that  it  may 
override  any  preengagement  these  people  may 
have." 

"Leave  that  to  me,  Madame.  I  shall  make  it  little 
short  of  a  command." 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "you  are  a  man  of  spirit  and 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     225 

sense,  and  I  promise  you,  Monsieur,  one  thing:  you 
shall  have  great  amusement  at  your  house  in  the 
Rue  du  Faubourg  St.  Honore  to-morrow  at  half 
past  twelve." 

"And  after?"  asked  De  Richelieu. 

She  laughed. 

"I  always  pay  my  debts.  And  this  is  for  earnest." 
She  held  out  her  lips  and  he  kissed  her. 

Her  extraordinary  frankness,  her  golden  voice, 
her  beauty  and  personal  magnetism  had  completely 
bound  this  old  libertine  in  their  pentagram;  the 
thought  that  he  was  getting  the  better  of  De  Lussac, 
a  man  so  much  his  junior,  did  not  lessen  his  satis- 
faction. 

"And  now,  Monsieur,  I  must  go.  To-morrow  at 
half  past  twelve,  expect  me." 

He  followed  her  as  she  passed  into  the  corridor 
and  then  across  the  great  hall,  where  they  parted. 
On  the  steps  before  which  her  carriage  was  drawn 
up,  who  should  be  waiting  for  her  but  Placide ! 

"What!"  cried  she.    "You  here!" 

"Yes,  Madame.  Rosine  told  me  that  you  had 
come  here,  and  I  took  a  cabriolet  and  followed  you, 
as  I  have  some  very  important  information  for 
your  ear." 

"And  vour  information?" 


"Madame,  what  I  have  to  say  has  to  do  with 
Monsieur  de  Lussac." 

"Then  get  into  the  carriage  with  me  and  you  can 
tell  me  as  we  drive." 

She  made  him  get  in  and  take  the  front  seat. 
Then  the  carriage  started. 

All  the  way  from  Paris  Placide  had  been  racking 
his  head  for  an  excuse  for  having  followed  her. 

"Well,"  said  she,  when  they  had  cleared  the  ave- 
nue gates,  "your  information?" 

"Just  this,  Madame,"  said  the  old  fellow  bluffly. 
"I  am  not  blind." 

"So  you  posted  all  the  way  from  Paris  to  tell  me 
about  the  state  of  your  eyes !  Well,  then,  Monsieur 
Placide,  you  shall  pay  your  own  expenses  for  the 
journey,  and  you  can,  now  that  you  have  relieved 
yourself  of  your  information,  get  out  and  sit  beside 
the  coachman." 

Placide  noted  her  gaiety  and  animation;  more 
than  ever  he  felt  certain  that  whatever  business  had 
brought  her  to  De  Richelieu's,  it  was  of  a  most  im- 
portant nature  and  that  she  had  been  successful  in 
it.  He  had  come  with  the  idea  of  trying  to  pick  up 
news  from  the  majordomo,  but  at  the  last  moment 
he  determined  to  adhere  to  the  baroness. 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU    227 

"Madame,"  he  went  on,  quite  unmoved,  "I  am  not 
blind,  and  it  has  been  easy  for  me  to  see  that  you 
are   not  disinterested   in  anything  concerning  the 
welfare  of  Monsieur  de  Lussac." 
"Ah,  Monsieur  de  Lussac !" 
"Yes,    Madame.      He   has   been   imprisoned.      I 
heard  the  news  this  evening  from  the  footman  of 
Monsieur  de  Duras." 

"And  you  came  after  me  to  Versailles  to  inform 
me  of  this!"  The  little  lamp  that  lighted  the  in- 
terior of  the  carriage  showed  him  that  her  eyes  were 
moist.  His  fidelity  had  evidently  moved  her  to  the 
heart ;  he  had  not  reckoned  on  this. 

"Oh,  Madame,  that  was  nothing.  Just  a  summer 
evening's  drive." 

"My  good  Placide,"  she  replied,  "fidelity  is  a 
great  deal  in  this  world,  where  all  men  are  unfaith- 
ful. But  you  have  been  a  grumbling  servant,  you 
have  set  Rosine  by  the  ears,  and  I  doubt,  even,  if 
you  have  been  satisfied  with  your  mistress.  In 
short,  my  good  Placide,  you  are  an  intolerable  serv- 
ant, and  as  a  recompense  for  your  fidelity  this  even- 
ing I  now  discharge  you  from  my  service." 

"What  now  ?"  thought  Placide,  at  this  unexpected 
turn. 


228        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"I  discharge  you  as  a  servant  and  reengage  you 
as  a  friend,  a  salaried  friend.  Well,  what  do  you 
say  to  that,  grumbler  ?" 

Placide  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  One  might 
have  fancied  that  she  had  touched  the  old  scamp's 
heart. 

"Cordieu!  Madame,"  grumbled  he,  at  last,  "you 
are  making  a  lot  out  of  nothing.  I  am  just  your 
servant." 

"And  my  friend." 

All  the  way  to  Paris,  behind  madame's  trium- 
phant gaiety  was  the  fear  of  pursuit.  If  Richelieu 
opened  that  fatal  drawer  before  she  had  put  suffi- 
cient distance  between  them  to  make  pursuit  im- 
possible, he  would  pursue  her.  It  was,  therefore, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  she  passed  the  toll-gate 
and  the  gates  of  Paris,  and  heard  the  familiar  grind- 
ing of  the  wheels  on  the  pavement  of  the  city. 

It  was  long  after  midnight,  and  the  deserted 
streets  lay  under  the  moon.  The  hungry  city  slept, 
guarded  by  the  Bastile  standing  like  a  mailed  giant 
in  the  moonlight. 

At  the  house  in  the  Rue  Coq  Heron  the  carriage 
stopped.  Placide  descended  and  helped  his  mistress 
to  alight.  As  he  did  so,  his  hand,  brushing  her 
dress,  felt  something  in  her  pocket;  the  folded 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     229 

parchment  of  the  document  could  be  distinctly  felt 
through  the  brocade.  His  hound's  instinct  told  him 
that  here  lay  the  secret  of  the  journey  to  De  Riche- 
lieu. 

He  followed  her  into  the  house,  where  she  bade 
him  good  night  and  went  to  her  room. 

Having  locked  her  door,  she  took  the  precious 
document  from  her  pocket  and  read  it  carefully 
from  the  first  word  to  the  last.  Yes,  this  was  the 
infamous  contract,  in  very  truth,  a  weapon  against 
De  Sartines  more  formidable  than  a  dagger.  She 
went  to  the  little  bureau  in  the  corner  of  the  room 
and,  taking  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a  pen,  sat  down 
and  began  to  make  a  fair  copy  of  the  document, 
word  for  word.  When  this  was  accomplished,  she 
locked  the  two  papers  away  and  went  to  bed. 

She  awoke  an  hour  after  dawn,  dressed  without 
calling  Rosine,  and  taking  from  the  bureau  the  orig- 
inal document,  folded  it  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  making 
a  little  parcel  of  it  which  she  sealed.  Then,  placing 
the  parcel  in  her  pocket,  she  left  the  house. 

She  had  put  on  her  plainest  dress  and  a  veil 
which  almost  hid  her  features,  so  that  she  might 
pass  unnoticed  through  the  early  morning  streets. 
Her  plan  of  campaign  was  now  quite  clearly  mapped 
out  before  her,  and  though  she  had  no  friend  in 


230       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

Paris  in  whom  she  could  implicitly  place  her  trust, 
her  genius  had  discovered  a  man  the  soul  of  honor, 
a  man  whom  she  could  trust,  and,  moreover,  a  man 
who  walked  fearless  of  the  king  and  De  Sartines. 

She  had  left  now  the  broader  streets  and,  inquir- 
ing her  way  as  she  went,  found  at  last  the  Rue 
Plastriere,  a  street  rather  gone  to  decay.  Some  of 
the  houses  in  the  street  were  of  great  antiquity, 
gabled  and  weathercocked,  sunken  in  their  founda- 
tions by  age;  remnants  of  that  Paris  which  once 
showed  its  fantasy  of  roofs,  vanes,  spires  and  tow- 
ers to  the  sun;  the  Paris  of  Louis  XL,  half  univer- 
sity, half  city;  the  Paris  of  Villon  and  Rabelais, 
through  which  in  the  winter  wolves  prowled ;  dom- 
inated by  Notre  Dame  and  the  gibbets  of  Mont- 
faucon. 

At  one  of  these  old  houses  Madame  Linden 
paused,  verified  the  number,  and  then,  going  up  the 
two  steps  that  led  to  the  doorway,  rang  the  queasy 
bell. 

Scarcely  had  she  released  the  handle  when  the 
door  opened  and  a  man  appeared.  He  was  gray- 
bearded,  shabby  and  rusty,  attired  in  a  snuff-colored 
coat  the  worse  for  wear  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat; 
he  carried  a  book  under  his  arm,  and  it  was  quite 
evident  that  he  had  not  opened  the  door  in  reply  to 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     231 

the  summons,  for,  when  he  saw  the  veiled  figure  of 
the  woman,  he  started  back. 

"What  do  you  want?"  said  he,  holding  the  door 
in  such  a  way  that  he  could  clap  it  to  at  a  moment's 
notice. 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  baroness,  who,  despite 
the  desperate  seriousness  of  her  mission,  could 
scarcely  restrain  her  mirth  at  the  appearance  of  the 
book-worm  and  his  evident  alarm,  "I  want  an  inter- 
view with  you  on  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  one  of  your  friends." 

"You  know  me  then  ?" 

"Oh,  Monsieur,  all  Europe  knows  you,  and 
though  I  have  never  seen  you  before,  yet  I  recog- 
nize you  at  once." 

The  book- worm,  allured  by  the  voice  of  the 
charmer,  came  forward  and,  closing  the  door  be- 
hind him,  stood  on  the  step. 

He  had  a  mirthless  face,  a  face  wherein  lurked 
suspicion  and  distrust;  an  extraordinary  face,  so 
much  of  greatness  and  of  littleness  did  it  contain; 
the  face  of  a  practical  man  and  a  dreamer — he  had 
even  forgotten  to  wash  it  that  morning,  just  as  he 
had  forgotten  to  brush  his  coat,  which  he  held 
tightly  clasped  about  him  with  one  thin  hand,  as  if 
to  fend  off  the  approaches  of  the  world. 


232        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

Thus  in  the  early  morning  brightness  stood  Mon- 
sieur Rousseau  of  Geneva,  a  most  difficult  subject 
to  deal  with,  as  Madame  Linden  perceived,  despite 
her  veil.  Soft  words  were  of  no  use  as  a  first  ap- 
proach to  this  evasive  and  self-centered  nature. 

"Well,  Monsieur,"  she  went  on,  "I  can  compli- 
ment you  on  many  things,  but  there  is  one  thing  on 
which  I  can  not  felicitate  you,  and  that  is  your 
sense  of  hospitality." 

"Madame,"  said  Rousseau,  taken  aback,  "I  am 
bound  on  an  early  morning  visit  to  my  friend  Mon- 
sieur de  Rennes.  Besides,  Madame,  I  do  not  know 
you." 

"Therefore  you  clap  your  door  in  my  face  ?  Ah, 
Monsieur,  how  easy  it  is  to  be  a  philosopher;  to 
order  an  emperor  out  of  your  sunlight,  to  clap  your 
door  in  the  face  of  a  woman !  Come,  I  will  explain 
myself,  then,  in  the  open  air,  if  you  will  allow  me  to 
walk  beside  you  down  the  street.  And  now,  directly 
to  my  point,  your  friend  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
Lussac  is  in  prison." 

"In  prison?" 

"In  the  fortress  of  the  Bastile,  caught  in  the  toils 
of  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  who  will  devour  him  as 
surely  as  a  spider  devours  a  fly,  if  I  do  not  come  to 
his  assistance." 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     233 

Now  Rousseau  had  a  real  fondness  for  his  dis- 
ciple, De  Lussac,  but  Rousseau,  though  he  preached 
unrest,  was  no  conspirator ;  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
Society  of  the  Midi;  he  was  a  philosopher,  a  musi- 
cian, a  thinker;  his  social  contract  did  not  include 
fisticuffs. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  stopping  and  facing  her, 
"what  you  tell  me  disturbs  me  deeply.  In  prison! 
And  what  has  this  unfortunate  young  man  done?" 

"This  unfortunate  young  man,  Monsieur,  has 
simply  been  carrying  out  in  practice  what  you 
preach  in  theory.  You  have  made  him  discontented 
with  the  world  as  it  is,  and  he  has  been  trying  to 
upset  it,  succeeding  only  in  nearly  upsetting  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartines'  coach." 

"Upsetting  Monsieur  de  Sartines'  coach  ?" 

"I  speak  figuratively,  Monsieur.  He  has  been 
conspiring  against  the  social  order,  and  the  social 
order  has  placed  him  in  prison." 

Rousseau  fumbled  with  his  book,  standing  before 
Madame  Linden  like  a  school-boy.  In  the  few  mo- 
ments of  their  conversation  her  intelligence  had 
overridden  his  genius.  She  was  taking  him  to  task. 

"Madame,"  said  he  at  last,  "I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  conspiracies.  I  have  never  preached  sedition. 
You  say  that  my  teaching  has  made  the  young  man 


234       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

discontented  with  things  as  they  are.  Granted :  that 
is  what  my  teaching  aims  at.  Since  when  was  con- 
tentment a  virtue?  Take  it  even  in  art.  What 
artist  who  is  content  with  his  work  ever  arrives  at 
greatness  ?" 

In  another  moment  he  would  have  plunged  and 
hidden  himself  in  the  fountain  of  philosophy,  but 
madame  was  too  quick  for  him. 

"Monsieur,  you  wander  from  the  point.  This  is 
not  a  question  of  art  but  politics,  and  Monsieur  de 
Lussac  has  arrived,  owing  to  the  discontentment 
you  taught  him,  not  at  greatness,  but  in  prison.  It 
is  your  duty  to  help  me,  without  in  the  least  involv- 
ing yourself,  to  extricate  him." 

"Madame,"  said  Rousseau  decisively,  "if  this  is 
as  you  say,  I  will  myself  go  and  see  the  king." 

"And  the  king  will  say:  'Certainly,  Monsieur 
Rousseau;  we  will  see,  we  will  see.'  And  he  will 
refer  you  to  Monsieur  de  la  Vrilliere,  who  will  say, 
'Certainly,  Monsieur  Rousseau,  everything  shall  be 
done  to  clear  this  unfortunate  gentleman.'  And 
Monsieur  de  la  Vrilliere  will  refer  you  to  Monsieur 
de  Sartines,  who  will  talk  about  Justice,  whom,  by 
the  by,  he  does  not  know  in  the  least.  Oh,  Monsieur 
Rousseau,  you  are  the  greatest  philosopher  of  your 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU    235 

age,  but  among  these  men  of  the  world  your  philos- 
ophy would  lead  you  nowhere;  the  production  of 
immortal  books  is  your  metier  in  life,  not  the  con- 
duct of  quarrels  with  policemen.  Leave  all  that  to 
me.  I  shall  free  Monsieur  cle  Lussac  if  you  will 
only  do  one  thing  for  me." 

"And  that?" 

She  took  the  packet  from  her  pocket. 

"Take  this,  and  treasure  it  as  you  would  your  life. 
I  shall  probably  send  a  servant  for  it  this  evening. 
He  will  show  you  this  ring — "  she  exposed  a  cameo 
ring  on  her  hand.  "Give  it  to  him.  If  you  do  not 
hear  from  me  by  noon  to-morrow,  you  will  know 
that  I  am  either  dead  or  in  prison,  for  the  people  I 
am  attacking  are  merciless  people  and  do  not  care 
what  weapons  they  use.  In  that  event,  take  the 
packet  yourself  to  Monsieur  de  Maupeou,  the  vice- 
chancellor.  In  that  case  I  shall  be  well  avenged." 

"But,  Madame,  what  is  this  parcel?"  asked  the 
philosopher,  not  in  the  least  delighted  at  the  pros- 
pect of  being  made  the  minister  of  her  vengeance. 

"Monsieur,  it  contains  the  social  death-warrant  of 
an  unjust  man,  a  man  who  is  preying  upon  the 
people;  it  is  also  at  the  same  time  the  order  of  re- 
lease for  Monsieur  de  Lussac.  With  that  parcel  in 


236        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

your  hand,  Monsieur,  you  can  command  events ;  you 
can,  at  least,  release  De  Lussac,  the  man  whom  your 
philosophy  has  sent  to  prison." 

"And  the  name  of  the  unjust  man?"  asked  Rous- 
seau. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

"The  lieutenant-general  of  police?" 

"Precisely." 

Rousseau  nearly  let  the  parcel  drop.  Here  was  a 
nice  imbroglio.  Ten  minutes  ago  he  had  put  on  his 
hat  to  leave  his  house,  content  with  himself  and  at 
peace  with  all  the  world,  except  Therese;  he  had 
opened  the  door,  humming  a  tune  from  one  of  his 
operas,  and  in  a  trice  fate  had  seized  him  in  the 
form  of  this  veiled  woman,  thrust  a  weapon  in  his 
hand,  and  ordered  him  to  attack  De  Sartines,  that 
tiger  De  Sartines,  of  whom,  despite  all  his  philos- 
ophy, he  was  very  much  afraid. 

Unfortunate  Rousseau!  He  was  always  a  mar- 
tyr to  women;  even  that  morning,  before  starting, 
he  had  suffered  from  a  bad  attack  of  Therese,  es- 
caping from  her  only  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Madame  Linden. 

"But,  Madame,  it  is  against  my  principles  to  use 
force  in  this  fashion.  I  am  but  a  student;  my  part 
in  the  world  is  entirely  passive;  the  hand  which  is 


237 

powerful  armed  with  the  pen  is  always  at  a  loss 
armed  with  the  sword— 

Again  he  would  have  dived  into  the  vague  waters 
of  verbiage,  and  hidden  himself,  had  she  not  caught 
him,  so  to  speak,  by  the  coat  tails. 

"Monsieur,  you  may  be  a  student,  but  you  are  a 
man ;  and  a  man  who  loves  and  honors  you  has  been 
imprisoned  for  no  fault  but  that  he  followed  your 
teaching,  though  wrong-headedly  enough,  perhaps. 
You  have  nothing  to  fear.  It  is  I  who  will  bear  the 
brunt  of  the  battle.  I  ask  you  only  to  hold  the  docu- 
ment in  your  house  and  in  the  event  of  my  not  com- 
municating with  you  by  noon  to-morrow  to  hand  it 
to  Monsieur  de  Maupeou.  He  is  a  bitter  enemy  of 
this  villain,  De  Sartines.  Monsieur,  believe  me  when 
I  say  there  is  no  danger  to  you  in  the  transaction. 
I  am  moving  in  it  for  no  object  but  love.  Monsieur 
de  Lussac  is  my  lover." 

She  lifted  her  veil. 

Rousseau,  before  that  loveliness,  succumbed.  He 
took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  to  her,  at  the  same  time 
thrusting  his  book  and  the  parcel  into  the  capacious 
pocket  of  his  coat. 

He  was  always  a  sentimentalist.  Though  at  times 
a  philosopher,  a  musician,  a  botanist,  a  writer,  the 
sentimentalist  was  always  there,  and  the  sentiment- 


23^       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

alist  told  him  that  the  woman  was  speaking  the 
truth  and  was  entirely  to  be  trusted.  He  hated  med- 
dling at  all  in  the  matter,  but  it  seemed  to  him  his 
path  of  duty  was  clear.  He  must  do  everything  in 
his  power  to  assist  in  the  enlargement  of  De  Lus- 
sac. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "I  will  act  as  you  desire. 
Personal  considerations  do  not  weigh  with  me  in  a 
matter  where  the  right  is  concerned."  Then,  hav- 
ing discharged  this  fine  sentiment,  he  turned  crusty. 
"Though  I  have  nothing  but  your  word  on  the  mat- 
ter, still  I  am  constrained  to  believe  it.  I  must  now 
return  and  place  this  packet  in  safe-keeping.  Good 
day,  Madame." 

He  turned  and  began  to  walk  back  toward  the 
house.  She  watched  him  for  a  moment,  then  with  a 
little  laugh  she  ran  after  him.  This  dreamer  had 
never  even  asked  her  name ;  suspicious  as  he  was,  al- 
ways fearing  spies  and  imaginary  enemies,  he  had 
neglected  this,  the  first  question  that  a  business  man 
would  have  put  to  her. 

"Well,  Madame?" 

"My  name  is — pardon  me  for  giving  it  in  full — 
the  Baroness  Sophie  Anastase  Therese  Linden,  and 
my  address  is  Number  12,  Rue  Coq  Heron." 

"Madame,"  replied  he  grimly,   "whether  a  bar- 


GALLANTRY  OF  DE  RICHELIEU     239 

oness  or  a  woman  of  the  people  matters  not  to  me 
at  all."  He  put  his  fingers  to  the  brim  of  his  old  hat 
and  shuffled  on. 

The  baroness  looked  after  him  as  he  went,  a  shab- 
by old  man  in  a  snuff-colored  coat ;  testy,  suspicious, 
casting  his  eyes  about  him,  clasping  his  coat  lapel 
with  a  veined  and  nervous  hand,  the  strangest  figure 
of  an  immortal. 

Then,  satisfied  that  she  had  placed  her  weapon  of 
destruction  in  very  safe-keeping,  she  returned  to  the 
Rue  Coq  Heron. 


CHAPTER  V 

DE  SARTINES   BECOMES   HOST 

THE  Paris  residence  of  Monsieur  le  Marechal 
Due  de  Richelieu  was  situated  in  the  Rue  du 
Faubourg  St.   Honore,  on  the  right  as  you  went 
toward  the  royal  palace  and  almost  opposite  to  the 
Rue  D'Aguesseau. 

Along  this  side  of  the  way  one  found  the  front- 
ages of  a  number  of  palatial  mansions  stretching 
from  the  Hotel  de  Montbazon  to  the  Hotel  d'Ev- 
reux.  The  broad  gardens  of  these  houses,  bird- 
haunted,  sparkling  with  the  waters  of  fountains  and 
glorious  with  flowers,  reached  right  down  to  the 
tree-planted  spaces  bordering  the  Avenue  des  Tuile- 
ries.  The  Hotel  de  Richelieu,  which  shortly  after 
the  date  of  this  story  the  marechal  exchanged  for 
another  residence  in  Paris,  was  not  the  least  sump- 
tuous of  these  houses,  and  this  morning  at  half  past 
eleven,  as  its  owner  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  ter- 
race overlooking  the  gardens,  flowers  never  ap- 

240 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST     241 

peared  more  beautiful,  fountains  brighter,  or  trees 
more  green  than  those  fountains,  flowers,  and  trees 
stretching  before  him  to  the  foliage  of  the  Avenue 
des  Tuileries.  He  had  just  arrived  from  Versailles, 
and  he  was  thinking  nothing  of  the  beauty  before 
him ;  the  impending  dejeuner  occupied  his  thoughts. 
It  amused  him  to  think  of  Madame  Linden  in  the 
arena  with  four  virulent  enemies  attacking  her, 
sharp-toothed  as  rats  and  poisonous  as  serpents;  he 
expected  to  see  them  horribly  mangled,  and  he 
expected  to  see  her  horribly  bitten.  It  would  be  a 
duel  of  wit  conducted  with  smiles,  to  the  tune  of 
the  clinking  of  champagne  glasses  and  the  sound  of 
violins.  He  had  sent  the  invitations  by  special  mes- 
senger on  that  morning,  and  so  urgently  worded 
that  he  was  sure  of  all  the  belligerents  responding. 

As  he  was  thinking  of  this,  a  servant  came  to  the 
terrace  from  the  house,  with  the  announcement  that 
Monsieur  de  Sartines  had  arrived. 

De  Richelieu  entered  the  house  and  passing  down 
a  corridor,  found  the  reception-room  which  opened 
on  the  room  where  dejeuner  would  be  served.  Here, 
superb  in  the  costume  of  the  day,  sword  at  side,  in 
a  brocaded  coat  and  with  ruffles  of  Mechlin  lace, 
stood  the  lieutenant-general  of  police. 

The  two  noblemen  bowed  one  to  the  other  with 


242        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

great  formality,  then  dropping  formality  like  a 
cloak,  De  Sartines  cast  himself  into  a  chair  and 
crossed  his  legs. 

"Well,  my  dear  Due,  you  see  I  have  come.  I 
guessed  the  motive  of  your  urgency — that  unfortu- 
nate De  Lussac — " 

"Yes!"  cried  De  Richelieu,  who  had  almost  for- 
gotten his  kinsman's  predicament.  "What  of  him? 
I  heard  you  had  placed  him  in  retirement.  What 
has  he  been  doing?" 

De  Sartines  pulled  a  long  face. 

"Oh,  ma  foi!  what  has  he  not?  It  is  the  most 
serious  case  I  have  yet  had  to  deal  with."  Then, 
leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  he  told  the  story  of  De 
Lussac  as  we  know  it,  with  this  addition,  that  on 
searching  in  the  orange-tree  tub  in  the  courtyard  of 
De  Lussac's  house,  a  packet  of  papers  belonging  to 
the  Society  of  the  Midi  had  been  unearthed,  incrim- 
inating many  people,  and  especially  De  Lussac. 

"Ma  foi!"  cried  De  Richelieu,  "this  is  serious! 
Fool !  This  will  mean  banishment." 

"Oh,  no,  Monsieur,"  replied  De  Sartines;  "this 
will  mean  the  Isle  St.  Marguerite.  We  can  not  let 
this  firebrand  free  across  the  frontier  to  work  his 
sedition  perhaps  at  Geneva  or  in  Holland.  But  you 


DE   SARTINES   BECOMES    HOST    243 

need  not  fear ;  there  will  be  no  family  disgrace,  just 
removal,  extinction." 

Scarcely  had  De  Sartines  finished  than  a  servant 
entered  and  approached  De  Richelieu. 

"Monsieur  Raffe  to  see  you,  Monsieur." 

"Raffe  to  see  me !  Why,  he  must  have  come  all 
the  way  from  Versailles.  One  moment,  my  dear  De 
Sartines." 

He  left  the  room  and  in  the  library  found  Raffe. 

Raffe  was  white  as  death. 

"Monsieur,"  cried  he,  when  his  master  had  closed 
the  door,  "a  terrible  thing  has  happened." 

"Yes!    Speak!    What  is  it?" 

"Your  bureau  has  been  tampered  with." 

"My  bureau !" 

"Monsieur,  when  you  left  me  your  keys  this 
morning,  with  instructions  to  go  over  the  Tarnier 
affair,  I  went  to  your  bureau.  The  top  right-hand 
drawer,  when  I  tried  to  unlock  it,  proved  to  be  un- 
locked. The  papers  seemed  to  be  in  order,  but  I 
remembered  the  secret  panel  inclosing  the  docu- 
ment you  know  of  concerning  Monsieur  de  Sartines. 
My  God!  Monsieur,"  cried  Raffe,  suddenly  collaps- 
ing into  a  chair,  "the  document  is  gone." 

"Gone !"  cried  De  Richelieu. 


244       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Gone;  ay,  gone;  and  I  know  who  has  taken  it." 

De  Richelieu,  greatly  shaken  by  this  news,  said 
nothing  for  a  moment.  He  remembered  last  night, 
and  the  baroness,  and  how  she  had  locked  him  out 
of  the  room. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last.  "Speak.  Who  has  taken 
it?" 

"Monsieur  de  Lussac." 

"DeLussac!" 

"Yes,  Monsieur;  he  came  on  that  visit  for  no 
reason.  He  was  alone  in  the  library.  Oh,  it  was  he, 
beyond  any  manner  of  doubt.  No  one  else  had  ac- 
cess to  the  place." 

De  Richelieu,  calmer  now,  reflected  on  this.  He 
felt  sure  in  his  heart  that  the  woman  of  the  night 
before  was  the  culprit,  but  his  amour  propre  re- 
volted at  the  thought.  He  preferred  to  think  that 
he  had  been  betrayed  by  his  kinsman  rather  than 
that  he  had  been  fooled  by  a  woman.  Then  he  re- 
membered their  connection,  and  the  truth,  that  per- 
haps the  pair  of  them  had  united  to  outwit  him, 
began  to  dawn  on  his  mind.  An  intense  anger 
amounting  to  hatred  of  this  pair  of  lovers  arose  in 
his  heart.  But  the  conqueror  of  Mahon  was  not  a 
man  to  be  conquered  by  his  temper. 

"Return  to  Versailles,"  said  he  to  Raffe,  "and 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST    245 

await  my  instructions.  Place  the  whole  household 
under  surveillance.  You  are  absolutely  certain  that 
you  have  made  no  mistake?" 

"Absolutely,  Monsieur." 

"Then  go." 

The  due  returned  to  the  reception-room  where  he 
had  left  De  Sartines.  He  was  undecided  yet  as  to 
what  course  he  should  take;  he  knew  that  the  situ- 
ation as  regarded  De  Sartines  was  serious,  but  when 
the  document  began  to  speak  in  strange  hands  it 
would  be  time  enough  for  De  Richelieu  to  discover 
that  he  had  been  robbed  of  it.  He  was  not  a  man  to 
make  confessions  and  explanations. 

"Well,"  said  De  Sartines,  "and  what  had  Mon- 
sieur Raffe  to  say  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing — household  matters — and  that  re- 
minds me,  the  urgency  of  my  invitation  to  dejeuner 
had  nothing  to  do  with  De  Lussac." 

"With  what,  then?" 

"Why,  writh  a  most  charming  woman  who  insists 
upon  meeting  you." 

"Aha!    And  who  is  she,  this  charming  woman?" 

"I  will  give  you  a  hundred  guesses  and  you  will 
be  wrong  every  time." 

"Then  put  me  out  of  my  suspense." 

"Madame  la  Baronne  Sophie  Linden." 


246        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

De  Sartines  stared  for  a  moment;  then  he  broke 
into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!  you  have  invited  me  to  meet  her! 
This  will  kill  me!" 

"In  what  way?" 

"Why,  my  dear  Due,  I  have  decided  to  arrest  her. 
I  would  have  arrested  her  yesterday,  only  I  had  not 
a  powerful  enough  case  against  her.  This  finding 
of  the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi  has  changed 
all  that.  True,  her  name  is  not  mentioned  in  them, 
but  she  is  a  friend  and  the  mistress  of  De  Lussac, 
and  he  wrote  to  her  concerning  them.  I  shall  hold 
her  in  prison  for  a  week,  and  then  bundle  her  back 
to  Vienna  with  a  note  to  Monsieur  Talliene  of  the 
Vienna  police." 

"Cordieu!"  said  the  due,  "and  I  invited  her  to 
dejeuner!" 

"Well,  my  dear  De  Richelieu,  you  are  well  out  of 
the  results  of  that  invitation.  She  is  a  most  danger- 
ous woman.  Yesterday  she  tried  to  extract  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  from  me.  She  threatened  me, 
yes." 

The  Due  de  Richelieu  was  silent  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  turned  to  De  Sartines. 

"She  must  come  here,  all  the  same." 

"What!" 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST    247 

"I  wish  her  impertinence  punished.  She  imposed 
herself  on  me ;  she  proposed  the  dejeuner  as  a  means 
of  meeting  you  and  some  other  people  who  are 
coming  and  whom  she  hates;  she  hoped  to  get  you 
all  under  her  tongue,  and  she  used  me  as  her  in- 
strument. Grand  idea!  You  have  not  issued  the 
order  of  arrest  yet  ?" 

"No." 

"Well,  then,  I  present  you  with  this  hotel  for  the 
day.  You  are  the  host,  and  when  Madame  Linden 
arrives,  deal  with  her  as  you  please." 

"Ma  foi!"  said  De  Sartines  grimly,  "that  is  not 
so  bad."  He  pondered  the  idea  for  a  moment. 
"You  are  in  earnest?" 

"Absolutely,"  replied  the  due,  who,  debarred 
from  offering  insult  to  the  woman  whom  he  now 
hated  in  his  own  house,  felt  perfectly  certain  that 
De  Sartines  would  not  hesitate  to  do  so  in  a  bor- 
rowed one. 

"Very  well,  then,"  replied  De  Sartines.  "I  shall 
deal  with  this  lady.  Call  me  a  servant." 

De  Richelieu  did  so,  and  De  Sartines  gave  his 
orders. 

"Go  at  once,"  said  he,  "to  the  Hotel  de  Sartines, 
and  ask  Monsieur  Beauregard  to  come  here." 

"You  will  arrest  her  here?"  asked  the  due. 


248        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Mafoi,  why  not?" 

The  sound  of  a  carriage  entering  the  courtyard 
came  faintly  from  outside.  Next  moment  a  knock 
came  to  the  door,  and  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  was  an- 
nounced. He  had  been  surprised  at  the  invitation, 
for  he  was  not  on  very  friendly  terms  with  the 
marechal.  His  surprise  had  brought  him. 

He  bowed  to  the  due. 

"Pay  your  compliments  to  Monsieur  de  Sartines 
first,"  said  De  Richelieu,  "for  he  is  your  host, 
though  the  invitation  came  in  my  name." 

De  Joyeuse,  with  an  impertinence  that  was  abso- 
lutely his  own,  turned  his  back  on  the  marechal  and 
bowed  to  De  Sartines. 

"I  put  my  stomach  in  the  hands  of  your  cook,  my 
dear  De  Sartines,  or  what  is  left  of  it  since  I  died 
from  the  cook  of  Monsieur  de  Richelieu." 

"Then,  Monsieur,"  said  De  Richelieu,  "it  is  evi- 
dent that  you  have  arisen  too  early  this  morning.  It 
is  not  the  hour  yet  for  the  resurrection." 

"Why,  here  is  Monsieur  de  Richelieu,"  cried  the 
young  man,  turning  to  the  marechal  with  an  air  of 
surprise.  "Another  guest  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines ! 
The  resurrection,  ha!  You  are  well  qualified  to 
speak  on  that  subject,  Monsieur." 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST    249 

"Perhaps,  but  not  so  ready  to  act  in  the  matter  as 
Monsieur  de  Joyeuse." 

"And  how?" 

"Oh,  ma  foi,"  said  the  old  warrior,  taking  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  "it  is  said  all  over  Paris  that  should  the 
angel  Gabriel  be  late,  it  will  not  matter  to  Monsieur 
de  Joyeuse,  for  he  can  always  blow  his  own  trum- 
pet." 

"That  is  true,"  replied  De  Joyeuse,  "but  at  least 
it  is  not  an  ear-trumpet.  And  whom,  Monsieur," 
turning  to  De  Sartines,  "are  we  expecting  as  guests 
to-day?" 

"Oh,  several  people.  Madame  la  Comtesse 
d'Harlancourt  is  coming." 

"Madame  d'Harlancourt!"  said  De  Joyeuse  in  a 
reflective  tone.  "Let  me  see.  Do  they  not  say  she 
poisoned  her  first  husband?" 

"No,  Monsieur,"  cut  in  the  due.  "She  only  lived 
with  him." 

"Ah,"  said  De  Sartines,  "if  you  only  knew — " 
He  stopped  short. 

"Well,  Monsieur?" 

"Nothing." 

De  Richelieu  laughed.  "Mordieu!"  said  he,  "it 
makes  me  shiver  sometimes  when  I  ^emember  that 


250        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

you  are  the  minister  of  police,  and  that  your  knowl- 
edge of  all  men's  private  lives  is  so  profound." 

"And  all  women's,"  said  De  Joyeuse,  who  did  not 
seem  happy  on  the  subject  of  men's  private  lives  in 
relation  to  the  police.  "Well,  Monsieur  de  Sartines, 
and  what  about  Madame  d'Harlancourt?" 

Before  De  Sartines  could  reply,  the  door  was 
flung  open  and  the  stentorian  voice  of  the  major- 
domo  announced,  "Madame  la  Comtesse  d'Harlan- 
court" 

She  was  a  beautiful  blonde,  just  beginning  to 
fade;  in  another  five  years  she  would  be  distasteful 
to  all  men;  in  another  ten,  a  parchment-covered 
skeleton.  An  example  of  the  woman  who  lives  a 
fast  life  and  grows  thin,  if  anything  more  horrible 
than  the  woman  who  leads  a  fast  life  and  grows  fat. 

"I  am  not  late,  am  I?"  cried  the  comtesse. 
"Where  is  my  charming  marechal  ?  Ah,  Monsieur, 
I  thought  you  were  invisible,  but  you  were  only 
screened,  I  see,  by  the  impertinence  of  Monsieur  de 
Joyeuse  and  the  grandeur  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

"Madame,"  said  De  Richelieu,  kissing  the  tips  of 
her  fingers,  "your  host  is  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  who 
has  honored  my  house  for  the  day.  The  invitation 
was  sent  in  my  name,  but  that  was  our  little  joke.'' 

"Indeed!"  said  the  comtesse,  who  felt  a  vague 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST    251 

disquiet  at  this  little  joke  in  which  the  minister  of 
police  played  a  part,  but  did  not  show  it.  "And  how 
are  the  philosophers,  dear  De  Sartines?  And  how 
are  the  fools,  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Madame,"  replied  De  Joyeuse. 
"Ask  Monsieur  de  Richelieu." 

De  Richelieu  raised  his  eye-glass  and  examined 
De  Joyeuse  through  it. 

"From  all  appearances,  Madame,"  said  he,  "they 
are  very  well." 

"You  were  asking  after  the  health  of  the  philos- 
ophers, Madame,"  said  De  Sartines. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  lady,  taking  a  seat. 
"Monsieur  de  Richelieu  has  informed  me  that  they 
are  very  well.  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  a  footstool." 

"So  on  the  earth  rested  the  foot  of  Venus,"  said 
De  Richelieu  as  De  Joyeuse  placed  the  footstool. 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  sighed  the  comtesse,  "the  earth 
was  not  flat  like  a  footstool  in  the  days  of  that 
seraphic  lady;  though  flat  it  is  to-day — flat,  stale, 
and  unprofitable." 

"And  what  has  staled  it,  Madame?"  asked  De 
Joyeuse  in  a  voice  of  mock  commiseration. 

"I  have  had  a  loss,  alas!  that  you  alone  can  re- 
place, Monsieur." 

"A  loss?" 


252        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"I  have  lost  my  monkey.  Dear  De  Sartines,  I 
am  hungry,  and  the  wit  of  these  gentlemen  is  not 
satisfying." 

"Madame,  I  expect  immediately  Madame  de 
Stenlis." 

"Oh,  De  Stenlis!  They  say  at  the  character 
dance  given  by  Monsieur  de  Duras  the  other  day 
she  could  neither  eat  nor  smile." 

"She  had  lost  her  heart,  then." 

"No,  Monsieur;  she  had  remembered  her  char- 
acter." 

Again  the  door  flew  open. 

"Madame  de  Stenlis." 

"Am  I  late?"  cried  the  new-comer.  "Dear  Mon- 
sieur de  Richelieu,  forgive  me.  Monsieur  de  Joy- 
euse,  good  morning.  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  you 
may  kiss  my  hand  if  you  will  promise  not  to  bite  it 
with  a  compliment.  Chere  Celestine — "  the  com- 
tesse  arose  and  the  two  women  embraced.  "You 
are  looking  younger  than  ever." 

"And  you  too,  dearest  Marguerite.  We  were 
just  saying  how  well  you  kept  your  years.  But 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu  is  not  your  host.  Monsieur 
de  Sartines  it  is  who  has  sent  us  invitations  in 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu's  name — quite  a  charming 


DE   SARTINES   BECOMES    HOST    253 

idea,  though  I  don't  know  the  meaning  of  it  in  the 
least — only  that  it  sounds  like  a  conspiracy." 

Madame  de  Stenlis  turned  to  the  marechal. 

"Sounds  like  a  conspiracy?  Why,  it  is  one. 
Well,  Monsieur  de  Richelieu,  now  that  you  have 
inveigled  me  here  to  be  the  guest  of  Monsieur  de 
Sartines,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

"Only  this,  Madame,  that  a  lady  invited  herself 
to  my  house  to-day,  and  as  I  can  not  receive  her  I 
have  asked  Monsieur  de  Sartines  to  play  the  part  of 
host." 

"And  who  is  this  lady,  pray?" 

"Madame  la  Baronne  Linden." 

"Then,  Monsieur,"  declared  Madame  de  Stenlis, 
"if  that  lady  is  to  be  of  your  party  to-day,  I  for  one 
shall  retire." 

"I  also,"  said  Madame  d'Harlancourt,  rising  from 
her  chair. 

"Patience,  Madame,"  said  the  marechal.  "Look 
at  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

De  Sartines  was  smiling. 

"Pray  take  your  seat  again,  Madame,"  said  he. 
"This  woman  has  invited  herself  to  the  house  of 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu  only  to  be  received  by  the 
minister  of  police,  who  has  her  warrant  of  arrest 
already  prepared  and  in  his  pocket." 


254       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

Oh,  ma  foil  how  funny!"  cried  Madame  de 
Stenlis,  clapping  her  hands. 

De  Joyeuse,  who  had  turned  white  at  the  name  of 
the  woman  who  had  douched  him  with  water  the 
day  before,  flushed  with  excitement  at  De  Sartines' 
words. 

At  that  moment  a  servant  entered  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  Beauregard  had  arrived,  and  De 
Sartines,  excusing  himself,  went  out  for  a  moment. 
When  he  returned  he  found  the  guests  all  grouped 
around  the  marechal,  chattering  and  cross-question- 
ing him.  There  was  an  air  of  hilarity  about  them 
that  might  have  been  the  reflection  of  the  grim 
satisfaction  shown  by  the  face  of  De  Sartines  as  he 
entered  the  room. 

"The  trap  is  set,"  said  De  Sartines.  "We  only 
wait  now  for  the  mouse,  who,  by  the  way,  is  late. 
Never  mind,  we  shall  certainly  not  wait  dejeuner." 

A  single  stroke  from  the  great  clock  in  the  court- 
yard announced  half  past  twelve,  and  the  last  vibra- 
tion had  scarcely  died  away  when  the  great  doors 
dividing  the  reception  from  the  dining-room  opened 
wide,  disclosing  the  portly  form  of  the  majordomo, 
and  behind  him  the  crystal,  snow,  and  flowers  of 
the  service,  the  lackeys  rigid  behind  each  chair,  and 
the  gallery  where  the  musicians  sat,  with  its  carv- 


DE    SARTINES    BECOMES    HOST    255 

ings  of  oak  that  so  well  matched  the  tapestried 
walls.  With  the  opening  of  the  doors  came  the 
murmur  of  violins  and  the  voice  of  the  majordomo : 
"Your  Excellency,  dejeuner  is  served." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN 

IT  was  no  part  of  Madame  Linden's  plan  to  ar- 
rive early  at  Monsieur  de  Richelieu's,  and  it  was 
not  till  a  quarter  to  one  that  her  carriage  turned  into 
the  courtyard  of  the  hotel. 

She  alighted,  passed  up  the  steps,  entered  the 
great  hall  and  looked  around  her.  Talking  to  one 
of  the  servants  who  stood  grouped  by  the  door  of 
the  reception-room  was  a  man  who,  when  he  saw 
the  new-comer,  broke  off  his  conversation  and  came 
to  her. 

"Madame  la  Baronne  Linden?"  said  Beauregard, 
bowing. 

"That  is  my  name." 

"Then,  Madame,"  said  Beauregard  in  a  voice  low 
enough  not  to  be  heard  by  the  others  in  the  hall,  "it 
is  my  unpleasant  duty  to  inform  you  that  Monsieur 
le  Due  is  not  receiving  to-day;  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines,  the  lieutenant-general  of  police,  has  given 

256 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN     257 

invitations  to  several  people,  however,  and  the  com- 
pany is  now  at  dejeuner." 

"Ah,"  said  she,  seeing  at  once  that  some  trickery 
on  the  part  of  De  Sartines  was  behind  all  this. 
"Well,  as  I  am  here,  I  shall  see  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines. Lead  me  to  him." 

"Madame  will,  I  am  afraid,  have  to  wait  till 
dejeuner  is  over.  If  she  will  come  into  the  recep- 
tion-room ?" 

Madame  Linden,  boiling  at  this  insult,  but  out- 
wardly calm,  followed  Beauregard. 

Beauregard  hated  this  business.  He  had,  in  fact, 
dropped  the  case  the  night  before,  telling  De  Sar- 
tines that  there  was  no  more  to  be  discovered  about 
De  Lussac,  which  was  the  truth.  He  knew  that  De 
Lussac  was  hopelessly  lost;  he  considered  all  this 
manoeuvering  needless  embroidery  on  a  case  which 
had  been  brought  to  a  successful  conclusion.  He 
was,  however,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  awful  weapon 
in  the  possession  of  Madame  Linden. 

He  ushered  her  into  the  reception-room  and  closed 
the  door. 

"Pray  be  seated,  Madame." 

She  took  a  seat.  He  also  sat  down.  At  this  her 
keen  mind  knew  at  once  the  truth.  She  was  under 
arrest,  detained  here  till  the  creatures  who  were 


258        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

breakfasting  in  the  next  room  had  leisure  to  look  at 
her  ere  she  was  deported  to  the  conciergerie. 

"Monsieur,"  said  she,  "I  must  thank  you  for  your 
courtesy." 

"In  what  way,  Madame  ?" 

"In  the  way  in  which  you  have  performed  an  un- 
pleasant duty.  But  Monsieur  de  Sartines  keeps  me, 
I  think." 

"Madame,"  said  Beauregard,  "it  is  my  earnest 
hope  that  he  will  not  keep  you  long." 

"Oh,  it  is  his  intention  to  keep  me  for  years,  but 
it  is  not  my  intention  to  be  kept." 

Beauregard  shook  his  head. 

"And  certainly  not  to  be  kept  waiting,"  she  fin- 
ished, rising  from  her  chair  and  approaching  the 
door  of  the  banqueting-room. 

"Madame!"  cried  Beauregard,  rising  from  his 
chair,  "that  is  the  door  of  the  banqueting-room." 

"All  the  better.    I  am  hungry." 

To  the  horror  of  Beauregard,  she  flung  the  door 
open  and  stood  looking  at  the  company,  who 
dropped  their  knives  and  forks  at  this  extraordinary 
interruption. 

The  majordomo,  who  was  directing  the  service, 
stood  as  though  he  had  suddenly  been  turned  to 


Just  for  a  second  she  stood  staring  at  them 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    259 

stone;  the  lackeys  gaped,  and  De  Joyeuse,  who  was 
in  the  act  of  raising  a  glass  of  champagne  to  his 
lips,  spilt  it  on  his  coat. 

Just  for  a  second  she  stood  staring  at  them,  and 
then  she  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"Ma  joll"  cried  she,  "Monsieur  de  Sartines,  Mon- 
sieur de  Joyeuse,  Madame  de  Stenlis  and  the  Com- 
tesse  d'Harlancourt  all  round  one  table!  Poor 
table!"  She  turned  her  back  on  them  and  came 
toward  Beauregard. 

"Now  you  will  see  something  funny,"  said  she. 

Beauregard  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow;  but 
he  had  no  time  to  think,  for  De  Sartines,  flushed 
with  wine  and  anger,  serviette  in  hand,  was  at  the 
door ;  behind  him  came  the  others. 

"I  told  you  you  would  see  something  funny,"  said 
the  baroness,  still  addressing  the  unfortunate  Beau- 
regard. 

"You !"  cried  De  Sartines,  whose  anger  now  had 
so  mastered  him  that  he  could  not  find  words. 

"Why,"  she  cried,  utterly  ignoring  him  as  De 
Joyeuse  entered,  followed  by  the  others,  "here  is 
something  funnier  still !" 

"Well,  cocottel"  burst  out  De  Sartines,  the  brute 
in  him  predominating.  "You  have  arrived  at  last?" 


260       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  flushing  over  neck 
and  face,  "you  shall  pay  me  for  that  word." 

Beauregard,  who  could  scarcely  contain  his  indig- 
nation, made  a  movement. 

"Monsieur  Beauregard,"  said  De  Sartines,  "leave 
the  room." 

Beauregard  bowed  low,  then  he  left  the  room. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  turning  to  De 
Sartines  and  suddenly  changing  her  tone,  "you  have 
arrested  me?" 

"That  is  so." 

"I  am  in  your  power." 

"Precisely." 

"As  you  are  strong,  Monsieur,  be  merciful." 

"Madame,  to  such  as  you  I  am  merciless." 

"And  you,  Madame?"  said  the  baroness,  turning 
to  Madame  de  Stenlis. 

"She  speaks  to  me!"  said  Madame  de  Stenlis, 
turning  to  Madame  d'Harlancourt. 

"And  you,  Madame?"  said  the  baroness,  turning 
to  Madame  d'Harlancourt. 

"She  speaks  to  me!"  cried  Madame  d'Harlan- 
court, turning  to  Madame  de  Stenlis. 

The  baroness  turned  her  back  on  them  and  faced 
De  Sartines. 

"Monsieur,"  said  she,  "we  grow  on  what  we  feed. 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    261 

You  have  fed  on  mercilessness ;  merciless  will  I  be. 
Do  you  think  for  a  moment,  Monsieur,  that  I  would 
have  attacked  you  unless  I  had  been  armed  to  the 
teeth?" 

"Aha !"  thought  De  Richelieu,  who,  you  will  have 
noticed,  took  no  part  in  the  baiting  of  this  possibly 
powerful  woman,  "we  shall  see  something  now." 

"Armed  to  the  teeth,  and  I  will  destroy  your 
complacence  with  one  word."  She  turned  to  the 
others.  "Look  on  Monsieur  de  Sartine's  face  as  I 
say  the  word ;  study  it." 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  De  Sartines,  folding  his 
arms,  "say  your  word." 

"Porcheron !"  said  the  baroness. 

"Cordieu!"  cried  De  Sartines,  starting  back  as  if 
she  had  struck  hiife. 

"Porcheron !"  cried  the  baroness  again,  advancing 
toward  him  while  he  retreated  before  her  as  though 
the  word  were  a  whip.  Then  of  a  sudden  he  re- 
gained his  self-possession. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "I  must  speak  with  you 
alone." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  she,  "I  prefer  speaking  to 
you  in  public." 

"I  forbid  it!" 

She  laughed  grimly,  then,  after  a  moment's  re- 


262        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

flection:  "Very  well,  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "let  us 
speak  in  private.  This  window  opens  upon  the 
terrace ;  let  us  go  out" 

De  Sartines  opened  the  window  and  followed  her 
out  on  the  terrace,  leaving  the  others  amazed  at  the 
turn  things  had  taken;  all  but  De  Richelieu,  who, 
however,  said  nothing,  pretending  an  astonishment 
equal  to  theirs. 

"Now,  Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  when  they 
were  alone,  "let  us  be  explicit."  She  took  a  paper 
from  her  pocket  and  handed  it  to  him.  He  looked 
at  it;  it  was  a  copy  of  the  contract,  exact  in  every 
detail,  made  in  her  handwriting.  Having  glanced 
at  it,  he  folded  it  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

"Well,  Madame,"  said  he,  "it  seems  you  have 
been  at  great  trouble  to  place  yourself  in  this  posi- 
tion." 

"What  position,  Monsieur?" 

"My  prisoner,  and  a  prisoner  of  the  state  until 
your  death." 

She  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"When  will  you  learn  to  understand  me?  Let 
us  be  clear.  You  intend  to  imprison  me?" 

De  Sartines  bowed. 

"Well,  Monsieur,  by  doing  so  you  will  inevitably 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    263 

ruin  yourself.  The  original  of  that  document  is  in 
the  hands  of  a  friend  of  mine;  I  have  arranged  to 
inform  him  every  day  at  a  certain  hour  that  I  am 
alive  and  free.  Should  he  not  hear  from  me,  say, 
to-morrow,  he  is  instructed  to  place  that  document 
in  the  hands  of  Monsieur  de  Maupeou,  the  vice- 
chancellor.  I  leave  you  to  guess  the  result." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  De  Sartines  perceived 
quite  clearly  that  he  was  lost,  unless  he  could  propi- 
tiate or  circumvent  this  subtle  intelligence  against 
which  he  had  pitted  himself. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "this  document  was  in  the 
keeping  of  Monsieur  de  Richelieu." 

"Indeed?  Well,  it  is  in  his  keeping  no  longer. 
Oh,  believe  me,  Monsieur,  the  game  is  now  in  my 
hands;  I  can  break  you  like  a  china  figure  at  any 
moment  I  like.  And  now,  do  you  know  what  you 
are  thinking?  You  are  thinking:  When  this 
woman  leaves  here  I  shall  have  her  followed  by 
my  agents  and  I  shall  find  out  with  whom  she  has 
placed  the  weapon;  I  shall  arrest  him  and  search 
his  house.  Well,  Monsieur,  if,  when  I  leave  here, 
I  find  out  that  I  am  being  followed,  I  shall  take  a 
very  drastic  course.  I  shall  leave  Paris  for  three 
days  and  let  things  take  their  way." 


264       THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Mordieu!"  said  De  Sartines,  upon  whose  face 
the  sweat  was  standing,  "all  this  is  beside  the  point.'* 

"Which  point,  Monsieur?" 

"Why,  ma  foi!  that  you  are  considering  me  in  the 
light  of  an  enemy.  I,  who  have  no  personal  ani- 
mosity to  you  at  all.  Ah,  Madame,  too  late  I  have 
perceived  your  genius.  Even  now  an  alliance — " 

"An  alliance  with  you !  Come,  Monsieur,  we  are 
wasting  valuable  time,  and  I  have  my  monkeys  to 
attend  to." 

She  turned  and  reentered  the  room  where  the 
others  were  all  standing. 

De  Sartines,  behind  her,  filled  with  fury  and  con- 
sternation, still  wore  an  appearance  of  unconcern. 

"And  now,  Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  "that 
we  have  finished  business,  let  us  have  some  pleasure. 
I  am  hungry." 

"If  madame  will  join  us  at  table — " 

"Sit  at  table  with  those!  No,  Monsieur.  Be- 
sides, I  am  only  hungry  for  my  dessert." 

Madame  De  Stenlis  turned  from  De  Joyeuse, 
with  whom  she  had  been  speaking,  to  the  Comtesse 
d'Harlancourt,  and  laughed. 

"Madame,"  said  the  baroness,  "Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines' power  is  limitless,  and  I  am  the  master  of 
Monsieur  de  Sartines." 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    265 

"Surely,  Madame,  his  mistress?"  put  in  the  com- 
tesse. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,  you  will  kindly  reply  to 
the  comtesse,  who  has  twice  insulted  me." 

Now,  for  the  comtesse,  Madame  de  Stenlis  and 
De  Joyeuse,  the  minister  of  police  had  that  contempt 
which  the  police  official  had  for  all  those  in  his 
power.  In  that  bureau  of  his  where  we  have  seen 
him  writing,  he  had  their  whole  histories,  and  it 
was  the  fate  of  these  unfortunates  that  their  his- 
tories were  in  themselves  accusations.  D'Harlan- 
court  had  not  poisoned  her  first  husband,  according 
to  popular  report,  but  she  had  ruined  three  men 
and  was  infamous.  De  Joyeuse  was  a  cheat  who 
had  used  cogged  dice,  betrayed  women,  beaten  the 
town  for  three  years  and  was  suspected  of  worse 
crimes  than  these.  Madame  de  Stenlis  was  a  neu- 
rotic unprintable.  One  may  fancy  the  rage  of  De 
Sartines  at  being  jockeyed  before  all  these  whom 
with  one  sweep  of  his  hand  he  could  have  seques- 
tered in  La  Force  or  Blcetre;  more  especially  as  he 
perceived  that  they  were  covertly  laughing  at  him. 

"Well,  Madame,"  cried  he,  turning  on  Madame 
d'Harlancourt  with  a  face  that  astonished  her, 
"what  now?  I  am  the  host  here  to-day.  Must  my 
guests  be  insulted  ?" 


266        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Corbleu!"  cut  in  the  baroness,  "that  is  not  the 
way  to  speak  to  a  woman  of  that  sort.  Speak, 
Monsieur,  as  you  spoke  to  me — or  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

At  this  threat  so  openly  made,  Madame  de  Stenlis 
tittered.  It  was  the  last  straw.  Furious,  unable 
to  attack  the  strong  woman  who  had  him,  literally, 
in  her  power,  he  attacked  the  weak. 

"Madame  Linden  has  explained  herself  to  me; 
she  has  a  power  which  will  enable  her  to  be  of  serv- 
ice to  the  state  of  France — and  you  insult  her. 
You!  Dieu  de  Dieu!  what  am  I  minister  of  police 
for  if  I  do  not  know  what  you  fancy  hidden? 
Shall  I  speak,  Madame?  Shall  I  speak?" 

"Cease!"  cried  Madame  d'Harlancourt,  who  had 
become  white  and  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
man  before  her.  She  had  retreated  a  few  steps  and 
was  brought  to  a  halt  by  a  chair,  whose  back  she 
seized. 

No  one  laughed  or  smiled  now;  an  atmosphere 
of  terror  filled  the  room,  for  the  rage  of  De  Sar- 
tines  chilled  the  heart ;  no  one  could  tell  what  might 
not  happen  next.  De  Joyeuse  glanced  at  the  door, 
Madame  de  Stenlis  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her 
lips.  Only  De  Richelieu  was  calm,  and  the  baroness. 
"Make  her  go  on  her  knees,  De  Sartines." 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    267 

"Never!"  cried  the  unfortunate  woman,  shaking, 
white,  terrified,  yet  making  one  more  effort  to  re- 
tain her  dignity. 

De  Sartines  took  one  step  toward  her;  his  eyes 
were  blazing  and  his  fist  clenched. 

Annihilated,  mesmerized  by  his  glance  and  ap- 
palled at  his  fury,  she  sank  weeping  on  her  knees. 

De  Joyeuse  slunk  toward  the  door. 

"Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  come  back,"  said  the  bar- 
oness. 

"Madame,  I  have  an  engagement  elsewhere,"  re- 
plied the  fashion-plate,  his  hand  on  the  door-handle. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  said  she,  "I  must  ask 
you  to  recall  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  who  also  in- 
sulted me." 

De  Sartines,  when  Madame  d'Harlancourt  obeyed 
him,  had  bridled  his  rage.  He  laughed  grimly. 

"That  is  but  just.  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,  come 
back." 

Monsieur  de  Joyeuse  came  back. 

"Now,"  said  the  baroness  to  De  Joyeuse,  "on 
your  knees  beside  that  woman." 

"Never!" 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,  perhaps  you  will  give  the 
order?" 

De  Sartines  looked  at  De  Joyeuse,  and  without  a 


268       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

word  pointed  to  the  floor  beside  the  comtesse,  who, 
with  hands  twisting  her  lace  handkerchief,  was  still 
kneeling. 

De  Joyeuse  for  half  a  moment  seemed  on  trie 
point  of  rebellion,  then  with  a  laugh  took  his  place 
beside  the  comtesse. 

Madame  de  Stenlis  was  no  fool;  she  recognized 
that  her  turn  was  coming,  that  she  and  the  others 
were  entirely  under  the  thumb  of  De  Sartines,  who 
for  some  reason  was  entirely  under  the  thumb  of 
the  baroness.  She  tripped  across  to  where  De  Joy- 
euse was  kneeling,  and  knelt  beside  him,  with  a 
laugh  that  almost  turned  the  tables  on  her  tor- 
mentor. 

"Come,  De  Sartines,"  said  she,  "kneel  beside  me 
and  let  us  pray  for  the  soul  of  one  dead  to  society." 

Madame  d'Harlancourt  picked  up  at  this  and 
folded  her  hands,  and  De  Joyeuse  assumed  an  air 
of  devotion. 

"Does  madame  refer  to  the  soul  of  the  Comte 
d'Ys?"  asked  the  baroness  in  a  suave  voice. 

At  this  remark,  which  showed  such  a  destructive 
knowledge  of  the  past  of  Madame  de  Stenlis,  De 
Sartines  started  back,  De  Richelieu  almost  exploded 
with  mirth,  and  the  group  on  the  floor  wilted. 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    269 

"And  you,  Monsieur  de  Joyeuse,"  went  on  the 
pitiless  one,  "for  whom  are  you  about  to  pray? 
The  watchman  Laverolles  killed,  by  accident,  no 
doubt,  but  still  killed — " 

"Madame,"  cut  in  De  Sartines,  terrified  himself 
by  her  knowledge  of  things,  a  knowledge  which  she 
had  acquired  from  no  higher  an  authority  than 
Rosine.  "Madame,  that  is  enough — " 

"Monsieur,"  she  replied,  "I  only  intended  to  say 
that  Laverolles,  though  an  honest  man  who  never 
used  cogged  dice,  betrayed  women,  drank  to  excess 
or  was  known  as  a  maquereau,  living  on  the  money 
of  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  his  mother — I  only 
intended  to  say  that  this  man,  though  honest,  was 
not  possessed  of  a  social  soul,  and  that  Monsieur 
de  Joyeuse's  time  would  be  wasted  in  praying  for 
it.  On  your  knees!" 

De  Joyeuse,  ghastly  with  anger  and  sweating,  was 
preparing  to  rise. 

"On  your  knees!" 

De  Joyeuse,  under  that  voice  which  pressed  on 
him  like  a  hand,  was  sinking  back  on  his  knees,  when 
like  a  thunderclap  came  an  incident  that  struck  the 
actors  and  spectators  of  this  little  comedy  motion- 
less as  people  of  stone. 


270        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

The  door  swung  open  and  a  lackey's  voice  an- 
nounced, "Monsieur  de  Maupeou." 

The  vice-chancellor  of  France  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment staring  at  the  extraordinary  scene  before  him. 
He  was  a  gloomy-faced  individual,  and  his  great 
wig  and  sober  attire  did  not  detract  from  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face. 

"Why,"  cried  the  baroness,  who  had  met  him 
once  at  a  reception,  "  'tis  Monsieur  de  Maupeou ! 
Pray,  Monsieur,  do  not  think  us  mad;  we  are  only 
rehearsing  a  little  comedy.  Do  not  move,"  to  the 
trio  on  the  floor;  "Monsieur  de  Maupeou  will  not 
mind  our  finishing  the  rehearsal.  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines  is  our  stage-manager.  Monsieur  de  Sartines, 
Madame  d'Harlancourt  is  shifting  her  position." 

De  Sartines  turned  his  back  on  De  Maupeou  after 
having  bowed  to  him,  and  faced  the  actors. 

His  glance  was  quite  enough  to  keep  them  as 
they  were,  even  if  their  amour  propre  had  not  urged 
them  to  keep  up  before  De  Maupeou  the  pretense 
of  a  rehearsal. 

They  smiled. 

"And  this  play?"  said  De  Maupeou,  taking  his 
seat  on  the  fauteuil  indicated  by  De  Richelieu. 

"  'Tis  called  The  Rat,  the  Cat,  and  the  Corn.  I 
am  the  miller's  wife,  and  these  are  the  rat  and  the 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN     271 

cats.  Monsieur  de  Sartines  is  the  stage-manager. 
Monsieur  de  Richelieu  possessed  the  manuscript, 
but  he  has  lost  it,  so  we  are  rehearsing  from  mem- 
ory." 

"Madame,"  said  De  Sartines  in  a  humble  voice, 
"shall  we  not  put  off  our  little  rehearsal  till  a  more 
favorable  opportunity  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  Monsieur,  after  the  rat  and  the  cats 
have  said  once  more  their  little  piece.  Now,  atten- 
tion. Place  your  hands  together  so,  and  say  after 
me  once  again  the  line : 

"  'Nous  sommes  rats,  chats,  fats' ' 

"Nous  sommes  rats,  chats,  fats,"  repeated  the 
actors,  with  a  frightful  assumption  of  gaiety. 

"And  we  humbly  beg  your  pardon,"  went  on 
their  instructress. 

"And  we  humbly  beg  your  pardon." 

"Right.  Now  you  may  rise.  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines !" 

"Yes,  Madame?" 

"My  carriage.  And  remember  that  you  are  com- 
ing to  supper  with  me  to-night  in  the  Rue  Coq 
Heron,  at  eight  precisely." 

De  Sartines,  taken  aback  by  this  invitation  which 
was  also  a  command,  could  only  bow. 

"Yes,  Madame." 


272        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

She  turned  to  Madame  de  Stenlis  and  the  com- 
tesse. 

"Ladies,  you  will  be  with  me  this  evening  at 
eight  punctually." 

They  glanced  at  De  Sartines,  then  they  bowed. 

"And  you,  too,  Monsieur,"  said  she,  turning  to 
De  Joyeuse. 

He  bowed. 

Then  she  turned  to  De  Maupeou,  and  De  Sar- 
tines felt  sick  at  heart. 

"Monsieur  de  Maupeou,  you,  too,  are  invited. 
Will  you  not  make  one  of  us?" 

"I  shall  be  charmed,"  replied  De  Maupeou,  who 
scented  something  strange  in  all  this. 

"You  will,  I  hope.  My  carriage,  Monsieur  de 
Sartines." 

De  Richelieu  himself  called  for  her  carriage,  and 
De  Sartines  escorted  her  to  it. 

"Madame,"  said  he  at  the  carriage  door,  "I  pray 
you  to  think  over  everything  in  your  mind.  The 
play  of  the  rat,  the  cat,  and  the  corn  is  very  amus- 
ing. What  is  the  charge  for  the  copyright  and  the 
manuscript?  Shall  we  say  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  ?" 

"Monsieur,"  she  replied,  "that  is  the  price  of  my 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    273 

jewels.  We  shall  see  about  the  price  of  the  play 
after  it  has  been  performed." 

The  carriage  drove  away,  and  he  returned  to  the 
reception-room,  half  broken  with  anxiety  and  feel- 
ing as  though  he  were  inclosed  by  a  net. 

De  Joyeuse  and  the  two  women  were  making 
their  adieus  to  De  Richelieu. 

"Good-by,  De  Sartines,  till  this  evening,"  said 
Madame  de  Stenlis  as  she  left. 

"Till  this  evening,"  said  Madame  d'Harlancourt. 

"Till  this  evening,  dear  De  Sartines,"  said  De 
Joyeuse. 

"Till  this  evening,"  replied  De  Sartines,  bowing. 
He  read  in  their  faces,  their  voices,  and  their  man- 
ner the  hint  of  what  they  guessed — that  De  Sartines 
was  to  be  the  first  protagonist  in  madame's  little 
comedy,  and  that  De  Sartines  would  have  at  her 
hands  a  sufficiently  lively  time;  not  one  of  them 
would  not  have  given  the  rags  of  ;iis  or  her  reputa- 
tion to  see  the  minister  of  police  in  the  dust,  and 
he  knew  it. 

De  Maupeou,  who  had  called  to  see  De  Richelieu 
relative,  so  he  said,  to  the  question  of  a  suit  which 
was  pending  at  the  courts  and  who  had  finished 
speaking  to  him  on  the  matter,  now  turned  to  go. 


274       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Till  this  evening,  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

De  Sartines  bowed  as  he  left  the  room.  Then 
when  the  marechal  and  the  minister  found  them- 
selves alone,  De  Sartines  turned  savagely  on  the 
due. 

"What  is  this?" 

"Ma  foi,  I  don't  know;  but  madame  seems  to 
have  turned  the  tables  very  completely  on  you,  my 
dear  Minister." 

"Cordieu!  turned  the  tables  upon  me!  I  should 
think  so.  You  have  been  robbed." 

De  Richelieu  clapped  his  hand  to  his  pocket. 

"You  have  been  robbed  of  that  cursed  contract. 
She  has  possession  of  it ;  she  has  made  a  copy  of  it ; 
she  holds  it  like  a  sword,  venire  Dieu;  and  she  has 
the  will  to  use  it." 

"del!''  cried  Richelieu,  the  picture  of  aghast- 
ness,  striking  himself  on  the  forehead  as  he  spoke, 
"I  might  have  known  when  she  said  that  word 
'PorcheronF  I  fancied  she  had  only  got  wind  of 
the  thing  and  was  holding  you  in  check  by  the  name. 
But  it  is  impossible.  The  paper  is  secreted  in  the 
drawer  of  my  bureau  and  no  one  ever  is  admitted 
to  the  library.  Ah!  Ah!" 

"What?"  asked  De  Sartines,  almost  startled  at 
the  old  marechal's  expression. 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    275 

"I  see  it  all  now." 

"Yes,  yes?" 

"I  know  the  thief!" 

"Yes,  yes?" 

"The  only  person  possible.  Armand  de  Lussac! 
He  alone  has  had  access  to  my  library.  He  came 
the  other  day  on  a  visit — scamp,  traitor!  He  said 
he  was  tired  of  Paris  and  wanted  a  change.  Ah, 
777 on  Dleu!  to  think  that  I  have  been  robbed  by  a 
kinsman!" 

"Well,  Monsieur,  your  kinsman  is  safe  in  the 
Bastile.  If  he  has  taken  the  thing,  then  he  must 
have  passed  it  on  to  this  infernal  woman.  The 
course  before  you  is  clear." 

"Yes?" 

"You  must  visit  De  Lussac  in  the  Bastile  and  ex- 
ert your  power  upon  him.  You  must  make  him 
write  a  letter  to  madame  ordering  her  to  deliver  up 
to  you  the  paper  that  has  been  stolen  from  you." 

"Ma  foi,"  said  Richelieu,  "that  is  not  a  bad  idea. 
One  can  but  try.  Of  course,  he  will  deny  it." 

"All  the  same,  you  must  try.  Threaten  him  with 
lifelong  imprisonment  if  he  does  not  do  as  you  dic- 
tate, and  to  seal  the  matter  show  him  these  papers." 
De  Sartines  took  a  packet  from  his  pocket.  "They 
are  the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi,  which  I 


276        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

found  in  the  orange-tree  tub  in  his  courtyard.  When 
he  sees  them  he  will  know  he  is  lost  unless  he  sur- 
renders." 

De  Richelieu  took  the  papers  and  placed  them  in 
his  pocket.  > 

"There  is  one  thing,"  said  he.  "This  visit  must 
be  private;  no  one  must  know  that  I  have  made  it. 
I  refuse  to  be  implicated  further  in  this  affair.  To 
have  it  said  that  Monsieur  de  Richelieu  visited  his 
kinsman  in  the  Bastile ;  to  have  it  said  that — 

"Set  your  mind  at  rest,"  replied  De  Sartines.  "I 
will  give  you  an  order,  armed  with  which  you  will 
be  admitted  without  question,  or  examination;  you 
can  manage  with  the  brim  of  your  hat  and  your 
cloak  held  to  your  eyes  that  no  one  will  see  your 
face.  You  consent?" 

"Ma  foi!"  replied  Richelieu,  "yes.  But  one 
thing  troubles  me." 

"What  is  that?" 

"De  Maupeou's  arrival  here  to-day.  He  is  your 
enemy." 

"He  is." 

"Well,  he  came  to  speak  to  me  about  some  law, 
business.  That  was  only  a  pretext ;  he  had  nothing 
important  to  say.  Besides,  all  Paris  thinks  that  I 
am  at  Versailles.  No,  I  am  sure  that  woman  sent 


THE  RAT,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  CORN    277 

him  a  secret  hint  to  come  here,  that  he  would  see 
something  that  would  interest  him." 

"Possibly." 

"She  has  invited  him  to  her  house  this  evening, 
Comte;  this  means  mischief,  and  if  I  were  you,  I 
should—" 

"Yes?" 

"Buy  her  or  imprison  her." 

De  Sartines  made  no  reply.  He  could  not  ex- 
plain that  he  had  attempted  to  buy  her  and  that 
imprisonment  was  totally  out  of  the  question. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  BASTILE 

DE  LUSSAC,  after  that  glance  which  showed 
him  the  battlemented  wall  and  the  silhouette 
of  the  passing  sentry,  sat  for  a  while,  his  face  buried 
in  his  hands.  One  might  be  tempted  to  say  that  de- 
spair does  not  exist  except  in  a  mind  diseased,  un- 
less perhaps  as  a  passing  phase,  as  now  in  the  case 
of  De  Lussac.  De  Lussac  for  a  moment  felt  and 
measured  despair.  For  a  moment  only,  and  then 
his  mind  returned  to  him. 

What  brought  him  back  to  balance  was  chiefly 
the  thought  that  his  position  was  of  his  own  mak- 
ing, and  that  there  was  a  certain  justice  in  his  im- 
prisonment. He  had  matched  himself  against  so- 
ciety as  represented  by  De  Sartines,  and  the  game 
had  gone  against  him.  It  was  useless  to  pule  and 
complain ;  it  was  unmanly.  Then  youth,  that  giant, 
came  to  his  assistance.  "Courage,"  said  youth; 
"the  game  is  not  lost  yet.  Men  have  escaped  from 
prisons  worse  than  this.  A  hundred  things  may 
happen.  Be  prepared." 

278 


THE    SPIRIT   OF   THE    BASTILE    279 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  floor  of  his  cell. 
The  light  was  now  so  dim  that  he  could  scarcely  dis- 
tinguish the  table,  the  chair,  and  the  bed;  but  he 
did  not  think  of  this.  Prisonless,  his  mind  was 
wandering  far  and  wide  like  a  bird  seeking  a  rest- 
ing-place, some  point  of  hope. 

He  remembered,  now,  that  Madame  Linden  was 
in  full  possession  of  the  facts  of  his  case;  though 
she  knew  nothing  of  his  imprisonment  she  knew  of 
his  danger;  she  was  in  possession  of  De  Sartines' 
secret  and  she  would  certainly  use  that  knowledge 
to  help  him — only,  perhaps,  to  bring  about  her  own 
ruin! 

This  thought  made  him  forget  all  things  else, 
even  his  own  position.  Ah !  if  she  were  to  fall  into 
the  trap,  become  entangled  in  the  wheels  of  this 
infernal  machine  that  held  him!  And  he  would 
never  know.  If  his  imprisonment  were  to  last  till 
his  death,  he  would  never  know. 

Maddened  by  this  thought,  he  broke  out,  cursing 
himself,  cursing  De  Fleury,  the  men  he  had  sought 
to  rescue,  De  Sartines  and  the  world.  Then  he 
became  calm  again ;  his  mind  refused  to  dwell  on 
so  frightful  an  idea.  He  would  escape;  other  men 
had  escaped  from  prisons  worse  than  this. 

He  began  to  form  plans  wild  enough  and  sense- 


280       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

less  enough.  He  would  bribe  the  turnkey,  forget- 
ting that  to  leave  the  Bastile  he  would  have  to  pass 
the  guard  at  the  main  door,  the  guard  at  the  inner 
gate,  and  the  guard  at  the  drawbridge.  He  would 
break  the,  bars  of  the  window  and  lower  himself 
by  means  of  his  sheets  torn  up  and  twisted  into 
ropes,  forgetting  that  if  he  succeeded  he  would  find 
himself  in  the  inner  courtyard,  hopeless  to  escape 
from  as  the  tomb. 

Engaged  in  these  thoughts,  he  was  suddenly 
brought  back  to  reality  by  the  sound  of  a  key  in 
the  lock  of  the  cell  door;  a  bolt  was  shot  back,  the 
door  opened,  and  his  jailer  appeared,  lamp  in  hand. 

A  man  followed'  the  jailer,  carrying  a  tray  on 
which  was  the  prisoner's  supper  and  the  paper,  pen 
and  ink  with  which  every  prisoner  was  supplied,  so 
that  he  might  put  in  writing  his  complaints  to  the 
governor. 

"I  will  be  back  in  an  hour  for  the  lamp,"  said  the 
jailer. 

"For  the  lamp!" 

"Ma  foi,  yes.  Those  are  the  regulations.  You 
don't  want  more  than  an  hour  for  your  supper." 

"Heavens!"  said  De  Lussac.  "They  have  de- 
prived me  of  liberty,  and  they  are  now  going  to  de- 
prive me  of  light  ?" 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   THE    BASTILE     281 

"I  know  nothing  of  your  liberty,"  said  the  jailer ; 
"I  only  know  the  regulations."  He  went  out  and 
shut  the  door. 

De  Lussac  turned  to  the  food  on  the  table.  It 
consisted  of  a  stew,  some  bread,  and  half  a  bottle 
of  wine.  The  idea  of  food  revolted  him,  still,  he 
knew  that  not  to  eat  was  perhaps  to  fail  if  a  sudden 
call  came  upon  his  energies.  He  sat  down  to  the 
table. 

There  was  something  human  about  the  food  and 
the  wine  in  this  inhuman  place,  this  nightmare  of 
stone. 

As  he  sat  eating,  a  slight  sound  attracted  his  at- 
tention and  glancing  on  the  floor,  he  saw  a  rat.  An 
old  gray  rat  which  had  slipped  into  the  cell  through 
some  hole  in  the  masonry,  attracted,  perhaps,  by  the 
smell  of  the  food. 

He  glanced  at  it,  terrified  by  the  thought  that  he 
would  find  himself  alone  in  the  darkness  with  such 
company  as  this.  His  imagination  painted  swarms 
of  rats  running  over  him,  perhaps  attacking  him. 
He  was  about  to  push  his  chair  away  from  the  table 
when  the  rat,  whose  bright  eyes  were  now  fixed  on 
him,  drew  closer  and  then  sat  up  on  its  haunches  like 
a  dog. 

It  was  begging  for  food,  just  as  a  poodle  begs, 


282        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

and  De  Lussac  stared  at  it  in  astonishment  without 
moving.  The  rat  kept  its  position  for  a  moment 
and  then  of  a  sudden  it  turned  a  complete  somer- 
sault. Three  times  it  did  this  before  sitting  up 
again  to  beg. 

It  was  a  performing  rat,  the  pet,  perhaps  the 
friend,  of  some  unhappy  prisoner  now  vanished. 

He  threw  a  piece  of  meat  from  the  stew,  and  the 
rat  whisked  away  with  it  beneath  the  bed.  Then, 
unable  to  eat  any  more,  he  sat  with  his  elbows  on 
the  table  till  the  key  sounded  again  in  the  lock  and 
the  jailer  entered. 

"Well,"  said  the  man  as  he  removed  the  things, 
"you've  made  small  use  of  your  pen  and  paper." 

De  Lussac  started.  He  had  little  hope  of  any 
appeal  made  to  the  governor. 

"I  will  use  them  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "Tell  me, 
was  this  cell  inhabited  before  I  came  here?" 

"Till  yesterday." 

"The  prisoner  was  liberated?" 

"No,  Monsieur;  he  died." 

"Ah,  he  died !  Who  was  he,  then,  and  how  long 
was  he  here?" 

The  man  laughed ;  he  was  in  a  good  humor,  for 
the  liberality  of  De  Lussac  in  paying  for  the  pen,  ink 
and  paper,  and  the  bottle  of  wine  he  had  cracked  on 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   THE    BASTILE    283 

the  strength  of  the  louis,  warmed  his  heart  toward 
the  prisoner. 

"Now  you  are  asking  questions!  Who  was  he? 
Ma  foi,  he  was  the  Marquis  de  Viverolles,  and  he 
came  here  before  my  time.  I  was  sorry  to  lose  him. 
No  matter;  'tis  the  way  we  must  all  go." 

The  Marquis  de  Viverolles!  De  Lussac  had 
heard  of  him  in  his  youth  as  the  handsomest  and 
wittiest  man  in  France,  who  suddenly  became  ex- 
tinguished in  the  last  years  of  the  reign  of  the 
Grand  Monarch,  just  as  Fouquet  had  become  ex- 
tinguished in  the  first  years  of  that  illustrious  reign. 
The  man  who  had  graced  everything  that  he 
touched,  charmed  all  whom  he  knew,  lent  his  wit 
to  so  many  men,  his  heart  to  so  many  women,  his 
purse  to  so  many  friends,  and  his  genius — to  a  rat ! 

The  spirit  of  the  Bastile  lay  in  that  page  of  un- 
written history. 

Consumed  by  the  mournfulness  of  it  and  feeling 
in  it  a  pointer  of  his  own  fate,  De  Lussac,  scarcely 
answering  the  "Good  night"  of  his  jailer,  flung 
himself  on  his  bed. 

After  a  while  the  absolute  blackness  of  the  cell 
was  broken  by  a  ray  of  light.  The  moon  had  risen 
and  a  beam  showed  up  the  bars  of  the  window 
space. 


284       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

As  the  light  broke  the  darkness,  a  faint  sound 
came  from  the  floor  of  the  cell.  It  was  the  friend 
of  the  Marquis  de  Viverolles  picking  up  the  crumbs 
that  had  fallen  from  the  table. 

De  Lussac,  as  he  lay  listening  and  watching  the 
beam  upon  the  wall,  instead  of  giving  himself  over 
to  despair,  continued  to  exercise  his  mind  on  plans 
for  escape. 

Nothing  could  seem  more  hopeless,  yet  he  showed 
his  philosophy  by  clinging  to  hope. 

"Come,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  have  determined 
to  leave  this  place.  If  I  can  not  leave  it  in  the  body, 
I  shall  leave  it  in  the  spirit  by  dying.  Well,  then, 
let  me  aim  first  at  my  bodily  release.  Let  me  be 
calm,  strong  and  watchful.  To  be  watchful,  I  must 
conciliate  my  jailer  and  keep  my  eyes  open  for  any 
chance;  to  be  strong  I  must  eat,  and  to  be  calm  I 
must  sleep. 

"Let  me,  then,  sleep;  it  is  the  first  step  to  that 
plan  which  I  have  not  yet  formed  but  which  will 
come." 

He  turned  on  his  side,  but  sleep,  which  conies  to 
children  more  readily  than  to  philosophers,  held 
aloof  from  him  for  a  while.  Then,  suddenly,  the 
exhaustion  caused  by  the  excitement  of  the  day  fell 
on  him  like  a  cloak.  He  slept,  and  when  he  woke 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    BASTILE     285 

he  found  the  jailer  entering  his  cell  and  daylight 
shining  through  the  high  window. 

His  first  thoughts  on  wakening  and  recognizing 
the  place  where  he  was,  were  the  thoughts  upon 
which  he  had  fallen  asleep. 

The  jailer,  used  to  the  vagaries  of  new  prisoners, 
was  surprised  at  the  cheerful  face  of  his  new  charge. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  seem  to  have  slept.     Here 
is  a  jug  of  water  for  you,  and  you  shall  have  some 
coffee  in  an  hour's  time.    We  don't  starve  our  peo-' 
pie  here.     And  for  dinner  you  can  have  what  you 
please  to  pay  for." 

"What  I  please  to  pay  for?"  asked  De  Lussac, 
who  did  not  know  the  truth  that  La  Bastile  was  in 
reality  a  vast  and  formidable  hotel,  of  which  the 
governor  was  the  keeper. 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  then,"  said  De  Lussac,  "I  will  have  for 
dinner — my  release." 

The  man  laughed,  and  De  Lussac  felt  he  had 
gained  a  point. 

"I  will  even  pay  you  a  hundred  thousand  francs 
for  that  same  dinner,"  went  on  the  comte.  "Two 
hundred — three  hundred.  My  rent-roll  is  three  hun- 
dred thousand  francs — well,  I  will  give  a  year's  rent 
for  that  which  will  cost  you  nothing." 


286        THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"You  are  like  the  rest  of  them,"  replied  the  man, 
placing  the  pitcher  of  fresh  water  on  the  table.  "All 
promises.  One  would  think  I  had  only  to  open  the 
door  and  say,  'Monsieur  What's-your-name,  walk 
out.'  " 

He  left  the  cell,  shutting  the  door  behind  him  and 
locking  it,  and  De  Lussac  lay  down  on  his  bed  again. 

After  a  while  he  rose  up,  drew  the  table  beneath 
the  window  space,  stood  on  the  table  and,  springing 
up,  clung  to  the  window  bars.  He  saw  again  the 
battlemented  wall  and  against  the  sky-line  the  form 
of  a  sentry  passing  along  it,  just  as  he  had  seen  a 
passing  sentry  on  the  evening  before.  The  sight 
depressed  him.  He  began  to  recognize  that  in  the 
Bastile  the  guardianship  of  prisoners  had  been  re- 
duced to  a  science.  Drawing  the  table  back  to  its 
place,  he  sat  down  on  his  bed  again,  this  time  with 
his  chin  between  his  hands. 

"All  this  is  a  system,"  said  he,  "and  there  is  no 
system  without  some  flaw.  Let  me  find  the  flaw. 
These  jailers  of  mine  have  been  reduced  from  living 
and  thinking  men  to  automata ;  surely  that  is  a  point 
for  a  mind  alive  and  fresh  to  work  upon." 

Two  hours  passed,  and  then  the  jailer  reappeared 
with  the  coffee  and  roll  which  formed  the  dejeuner 
of  the  Bastile ;  dinner  was  served  at  two  o'clock. 


THE    SPIRIT   OF    THE    BASTILE    287 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  De  Lussac  as  he  sat 
down  at  the  table. 

"Time?"  said  the  man.  "We  have  no  need  for 
time  here.  It's  time  for  your  coffee.  Time!  Ma 
foi,  if  you  once  begin  about  that,  you  will  become 
like  that  merry  gentleman  down  the  passage,  who 
sings  all  day.  The  clock  with  us  is  the  dejeuner 
hour,  the  dinner  hour  and  the  supper  hour — a  very 
good  timepiece,  too."  He  laughed  as  he  went  out. 

De  Lussac,  with  a  sinking  feeling  at  his  heart, 
drank  his  coffee  and  crumbled  his  roll.  As  he  did 
so  he  heard  something  whisk  on  the  floor.  It  was 
the  rat.  Hastily  he  flung  a  piece  of  the  roll  and  the 
rat  vanished  with  it.  The  thing  and  its  antics 
stirred  him  almost  to  terror. 

Then,  to  divert  his  thoughts,  he  took  the  pen,  ink 
and  paper  and  began  to  write  his  letter  to  the  gov- 
ernor. 

It  was  a  short  letter,  simply  asking  for  an  inter- 
view, and  having  folded  the  sheet  he  fastened  it  with 
a  wrafer  and  directed  it.  Then  he  sat  down  again 
on  the  side  of  his  bed.  It  was  at  this  moment,  per- 
haps, that  he  first  felt  the  terrible  sensation,  almost 
impossible  to  put  in  words,  the  feeling  that  time  has 
stopped — that  the  hour  is  no  longer  a  boat  taking  us 
to  any  destination. 


288        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

When  the  jailer  appeared  at  two,  bearing  the  pris- 
oner's dinner,  he  found  De  Lussac  seated  on  the  side 
of  his  bed,  staring  vacantly  before  him. 

He  refused  the  food.  He  did  not  even  refer  to 
the  letter  which  was  lying  on  the  table;  he  seemed 
like  a  man  dazed  by  a  blow.  Philosophy,  that  toy 
of  the  mind  destroyed  at  once  by  grief  or  pain,  was 
no  longer  with  this  unfortunate  gentleman.  La  Bas- 
tile  had  at  last  got  him  firmly  in  her  grip.  La  Bas- 
tile,  that  living  pain  made  from  dead  stone,  that  de- 
spair embodied  in  masonry,  had  taken  his  mind 
prisoner  as  well  as  his  body. 

The  jailer  withdrew,  grumbling  to  himself.  He 
knew  the  symptoms  and  he  expected  trouble.  At 
three  o'clock,  when  he  brought  the  prisoner  a  change 
of  linen,  De  Lussac  was  no  longer  seated  on  the  bed ; 
he  was  pacing  the  cell  feverishly.  His  face  was 
white,  and  he  turned  such  a  ferocious  glance  on  his 
visitor  that  the  man  hastily  withdrew. 

"Never  mind,"  said  he;  "a  little  starvation  will 
bring  him  to  his  senses.  We  shall  see  what  he  has  to 
say  at  supper-time. 

For  half  an  hour  after  the  jailer  left  him  De  Lus- 
sac continued  pacing  the  floor.  Then,  suddenly,  he 
broke  out,  shouting,  raving,  beating  upon  the  door 
with  his  fists,  furious  like  a  trapped  animal.  He 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    BASTILE     289 

seemed  fighting  and  struggling  with  something;  he 
was  struggling  with  La  Bastile. 

The  viewless  one,  whose  integuments  were  the 
walls  and  the  doors,  whose  jewelry  was  the  locks, 
the  chains  and  the  bars,  was  at  last  at  grips  with 
him.  He  had  said  to  himself,  "Courage!  I  will 
disregard  her,  I  will  escape  from  her.  If  I  can  not 
leave  her  in  the  body,  I  will  kill  myself  and  free  my 
soul." 

She  had  replied,  "It  is  your  soul  I  want.  Only 
men  of  spirit  kill  themselves ;  I  will  take  your  spirit 
away.  Men  do  not  kill  themselves  here ;  I  kill  their 
spirits.  They  make  friends  of  rats.  They  are 
brave,  they  threaten  me  with  suicide,  but  they  live  to 
forget  all  that,  and  they  die  laughing  and  singing 
like  that  merry  gentleman  down  the  corridor." 

Then  he  struck  her  and  she  struck  him,  using  only 
his  own  force  in  returning  the  blow.  He  shouted  at 
her,  and  she  shouted  back  in  echoes  of  his  own 
voice.  He  wrestled  with  her,  and  she  flung  him  on 
the  bed. 

Spent,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  haggard  and  dulled, 
he  lay  while  she  stood  over  him — towers  and  battle- 
ments— armed,  silent  and  victorious.  She  had  re- 
duced him  without  killing  him.  That  was  her  vic- 
tory. It  would  go  on  like  this,  the  struggle  of  the 


290        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

soul  against  her  and  her  struggle  against  the  soul, 
breaking  the  spirit,  debasing  the  man  till  he  began 
to  play  with  rats  or  sing  songs  to  her  like  the  merry 
gentleman  down  the  corridor. 

His  fury  had  expended  itself  and  he  was  now 
calm;  his  mind  cleared,  and  deep  shame  overcame 
him  for  the  moment.  He  recognized  with  horror 
that  he  had  been  acting  like  a  wild  beast  drunk  with 
captivity. 

He  sat  up  on  the  bed,  and  scarcely  had  he  done  so 
when  a  noise  came  from  the  corridor  outside  the 
cell;  the  bolts  shot  back,  the  door  opened,  and  the 
jailer  appeared. 

The  man  looked  at  De  Lussac  for  a  moment. 

"You  are  better,  I  see.  That  is  well,  for  there  is 
a  visitor  for  you." 

De  Lussac  sprang  to  his  feet  as  a  man,  wearing  a 
dark  cloak  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  entered  the 
cell.  The  man's  face  was  invisible,  for  he  held  a 
fold  of  the  cloak  over  it;  nothing  but  the  eyes, 
bright  and  piercing,  could  be  seen  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  hat-brim. 

For  a  moment  De  Lussac,  as  he  glanced  at  this 
sinister  figure,  fancied  that  this  was  some  emis- 
sary of  the  king  or  De  Sartines  come  to  despatch 
him;  only  for  a  moment.  The  unknown,  without 


lowering  his  cloak,  said,  speaking  to  the  jailer: 
"Leave  us  and  close  the  door  without  locking  it. 
Take  your  post  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  and  wait 
for  me  there." 

The  jailer  went  out  and  closed  the  door;  the 
cloak  fell  from  the  face  of  the  unknown,  and  De 
Lussac  found  himself  fronting  his  kinsman,  the  Due 
de  Richelieu. 

"Well,  Monsieur,"  said  the  due,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  flinging  it  on  the  table  while  he  let  the  cloak 
slip  from  his  shoulders,  "this  is  a  nice  position  in 
which  you  have  placed  yourself !" 

De  Lussac  could  not  speak  for  a  moment.  He 
stood  with  his  hand  grasping  the  back  of  the  chair, 
while  the  due,  placing  the  cloak  on  the  table  beside 
the  hat,  continued  :  "A  conspirator  against  the  state, 
a  De  Lussac,  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  a  robber.  Cor- 
dleii,  Monsieur,  I  dread  to  inquire  further  into  your 
doings  for  fear  of  what  I  may  find." 

The  sight  of  the  due  and  these  words  were  like 
wine  to  De  Lussac.  His  intellect,  made  clear  by  his 
past  fury,  was  now  like  the  atmosphere  purged  by  a 
storm.  Fortunately  for  himself,  he  had  eaten  noth- 
ing that  day  but  a  morsel  of  bread :  in  a  second 
thoughts  passed  through  his  mind  that  in  ordinary 
circumstances  would  have  taken  a  minute  in  their 


292        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

flight.  He  recognized  that  fate  had  at  last  given 
him  his  chance,  and  he  took  it. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  "if  you  will  take  your  seat 
on  the  side  of  that  bed,  I  will  take  this  chair;  then 
we  can  converse  the  more  easily.  To  what  do  you 
refer?" 

"To  what  do  I  refer?"  replied  the  marechal,  tak- 
ing his  seat  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  "I  refer  to  your 
conduct,  Monsieur." 

"You  called  me  a  robber." 

"And  I  call  you  it  again.  You  came  to  my  house. 
I  offered  you  hospitality;  you  opened  my  bureau; 
you  or  the  woman  you  know  of  abstracted  a  private 
paper — 

"Stay,  Monsieur.  Do  you  refer  to  Madame  Lin- 
den?" 

"I  do." 

"How  is  she  implicated  in  this  matter?" 

"How?  She  called  upon  me  last  night;  that  is 
how.  She  took  advantage  of  my  absence  from  the 
room — I  don't  know  how.  At  all  events,  the  thing 
is  gone.  Between  you,  you  have  done  this  act. 
Don't  speak.  I  did  not  come  here  to  argue,  but  to 
dictate.  That  document  must  be  returned." 

"And  if  it  is  not  returned?" 

"Then,   Monsieur,  you  are  a   prisoner   for  life. 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   THE    BASTILE     293 

Oh,  I  know  you  say  to  yourself,  'I  am  the  Comte  de 
Lussac.  I  have  powerful  friends;  they  will  free 
me.'  Well,  I  can  only  reply,  documents  have  been 
discovered  in  your  house  of  such  a  nature  that, 
should  we  use  them  against  you — well,  you  are  hope- 
lessly lost." 

"Documents !    What  documents  ?" 

The  marechal  laughed. 

"You  shall  see  them  with  your  own  eyes." 

He  placed  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  produced  a 
small  bundle  of  papers.  De  Lussac  instantly  recog- 
nized the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi.  He 
started  in  his  chair  and  his  face  flushed  despite  him- 
self. 

"Well,"  said  De  Richelieu,  exhibiting  the  bundle, 
"what  do  you  say  to  that?  Look;  examine  them. 
Are  they  genuine  ?  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"Monsieur,"  said  De  Lussac,  taking  the  papers  in 
his  hand  and  glancing  at  them,  "I  have  only  one 
thing  to  say — it  seems  I  have  been  robbed  just  as 
you  have  been  robbed,  and  before  God  I  would 
sooner  be  robbed  of  documents  like  these  than  of  a 
document  like  that,  in  which  an  infamous  king  and 
an  infamous  minister  conspire  to  rob  the  people  of 
their  food.  By  a  miraculous  chance  these  docu- 
ments have  returned  to  me.  Monsieur,  can  not  you 


294        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

see  the  hand  of  God  in  that?  You  can  not?  Then 
feel  it!" 

In  a  moment  De  Richelieu  was  on  his  back  upon 
the  bed,  with  De  Lussac  on  top  of  him. 

The  attack  was  so  sudden  and  unexpected  that 
the  marechal  had  no  time  to  cry  out  before  the 
comte's  thumb,  pressing  on  his  thyroid  cartilage, 
made  outcry  impossible. 

"Monsieur,"  said  De  Lussac,  "I  do  not  wish  to 
kill  you,  but  should  it  be  needful  I  will  do  so." 

With  his  free  hand  he  began  to  unloose  De  Riche- 
lieu's scarf  so  as  to  gag  him  with  it.  Then  he  saw 
that  it  was  unnecessary.  The  marechal  had  lost 
consciousness;  he  looked  as  though  he  were  dying. 
He  felt  horrified,  but  he  had  no  time  to  palter  with 
his  feelings.  He  picked  the  precious  packet  of  doc- 
uments from  the  floor  and  thrust  it  into  his  pocket, 
put  on  the  material's  belt  and  sword,  put  on  the  hat, 
put  on  the  cloak,  opened  the  cell  door,  raised  the 
cloak  to  his  face  and  left  the  cell,  closing  the  door 
behind  him. 

The  jailer  was  leaning  against  the  wall  at  the  end 
of  the  corridor.  Seeing  the  man  in  the  cloak,  he 
came  forward  and  locked  and  barred  the  cell  door. 
He  saw  no  difference  between  the  man  he  had  let 
into  the  cell  and  the  man  who  had  come  out;  there 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    BASTILE     295 

was  only  a  short  inch  of  difference  between  the  two. 
He  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and  slid  the  bolts. 

As  he  did  this  a  faint  and  stifled  cry  came  from 
the  cell.  De  Lussac's  heart  scarcely  changed  its 
rhythm;  he  was  beyond  emotion.  If  the  jailer  at- 
tempted to  open  the  door  he  would  kill  the  man 
with  the  sword  beside  him;  he  would  try  to  reach 
the  carriage  which  he  knew  must  be  in  waiting; 
failing  in  that,  he  would  fight  his  way,  sword  in 
hand,  as  far  as  possible  toward  freedom. 

The  jailer  paused  for  a  moment  with  the  keys  in 
his  hand,  then  he  led  the  way  from  the  cell  along 
the  corridor. 

They  had  reached  the  heavy  door  leading  to  the 
staircase  when  muffled  cries  and  the  sound  of  some 
one  beating  on  a  door  came  after  them. 

"There  he  goes,"  said  the  turnkey.  "He's  in  his 
tantrums  again.  He'll  be  breaking  his  furniture 
next.  They  generally  do.  Allow  me,  Monseig- 
neur." 

He  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  stairs.  De  Lus- 
sac  passed  through,  the  man  closed  and  locked  the 
door  and  then  led  the  way  downward.  As  De  Lus- 
sac  followed,  his  heart,  till  now  calm,  became  furi- 
ously alive;  each  downward  step  was  an  agony. 
What  formalities  were  there  still  to  be  gone 


296        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

through?  Would  he  have  to  enter  the  governor's 
room?  Would  the  guards  at  the  main  door  ask  to 
see  the  permit  that  doubtless  De  Richelieu  had 
shown  them?  He  knew  that  De  Richelieu  must 
have  arrived  in  a  carriage  and  that  the  carriage 
would  be  in  waiting.  Would  De  Richelieu's  coach- 
man fail  to  recognize  him?  Had  De  Richelieu 
brought  one  of  his  dogs  with  him?  Had  he  by  any 
chance  brought  a  companion  ? 

They  reached  the  corridor  below  and  the  jailer  be- 
gan to  unlock  the  great  door  leading  to  the  corridor 
on  which  was  situated  the  chamber  of  audience. 
The  door  opened  slowly  on  its  well-oiled  hinges,  and 
when  they  had  passed  through  it  closed  with  a  suck- 
ing sound,  as  though  La  Bastile  were  catching  her 
breath  back  with  a  sob  at  the  escape  of  this  victim. 

But  they  were  not  free  of  her  yet. 

As  they  approached  the  chamber  of  audience  a 
bar  suddenly  shot  out,  blocking  their  way.  It  was 
the  pike  of  the  Swiss  on  guard  at  the  door  of  the 
room.  The  jailer,  producing  a  paper  from  his  belt, 
handed  it  to  the  man,  who  read  it,  raised  his  pike 
and  allowed  them  to  pass  on. 

Another  ponderous  door  was  opened ;  they  passed 
through,  and  there  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  De 
Lussac  saw  the  sunlight  shining  through  the  open 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE    BASTILE    297 

main  door,  and  at  the  steps  a  carriage  drawn  up  and 
evidently  waiting  for  De  Richelieu. 

The  guards  at  the  main  door  had  still  to  be  passed. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  of  them,  some  lounging  on 
a  bench  inside  the  doorway,  some  on  the  steps ;  but 
as  the  mysterious  figure  of  the  man  in  the  cloak 
drew  near  these  gentlemen  exhibited  a  studied  in- 
difference, turning  and  talking  to  one  another. 
They  did  not  even  raise  their  eyes  as  De  Lussac 
passed  them,  and  the  guards  on  the  steps  faced 
about,  giving  him  their  backs. 

There  were  two  carriages  drawn  up,  one  at  the 
steps — a  splendid  vehicle  blazoned  on  its  panels  with 
a  coat  of  arms,  and  another  very  plain,  without 
sign  of  armorial  bearings,  drawn  up  behind  the  first. 

It  was  now  that  De  Lussac's  knowledge  of  her- 
aldry saved  him  from  making  a  terrible  blunder,  for 
the  carriage  at  the  steps  bore  the  arms  of  Monsieur 
de  Launay,  the  governor,  who  had  evidently  just 
arrived. 

He  turned  to  the  plain  vehicle  and  entered  it,  and 
the  coachman  on  the  box,  who  evidently  suspected 
nothing,  touched  his  horses  with  the  whip  and  they 
started. 

The  man  had  asked  for  no  directions;  it  was 
evident  that  his  instructions  had  been  laid  down  for 


298        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

him,  and  De  Lussac  leaned  back  on  the  cushions,  al- 
most suffocated  by  his  success  and  the  nearness  of 
freedom. 

Suddenly  the  carriage  stopped.  It  was  the  inner 
gateway,  and  the  harsh  voices  of  the  guards  could 
be  heard  interrogating  the  coachman.  Then  a  face 
appeared  at  the  window.  It  was  the  corporal  of  the 
guard.  He  peeped  in,  saluted  the  cloaked  figure  and 
withdrew.  The  carnage  drove  on,  only  to  stop 
again  at  the  drawbridge.  Again  came  the  voices  of 
the  guards  and  the  voice  of  the  coachman  replying 
to  them.  He  was  evidently  showing  them  his  per- 
mit. They  passed  on,  and  now  came  the  deep  rum- 
ble of  the  wheels  on  the  drawbridge,  the  grumble 
of  La  Bastile  at  the  escape  of  her  victim. 

Now  they  were  in  the  Rue  Saint  Antoine,  free  at 
last — for  the  moment. 

De  Lussac  knew  that  at  any  minute  the  jailer 
might  revisit  his  cell,  find  the  trick  that  had  been 
played  on  him,  and  then  a  cannon  from  the  battle- 
ments would  give  tongue  to  the  pursuit.  Guards, 
Swiss  soldiers,  the  agents  of  De  Sartines,  all  would 
be  on  his  track,  ransacking  Paris,  turning  out  every 
pocket  of  the  city  where  a  man  might  hide. 

It  was  imperative  to  leave  the  carriage  and  try  to 
reach  some  place  of  safety.  The  carriage  was  evi- 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   THE   BASTILE    299 

dently  taking  him  to  De  Richelieu's  house,  a  place 
he  dared  not  go.  He  had  only  one  louis  in  his 
pocket;  his  face  was  known  to  a  thousand  men;  he 
could  not  walk  the  streets  with  the  cloak  held  to  his 
eyes;  he  had  no  definite  plan  to  guide  him.  Never 
was  man  in  a  more  perplexing  situation,  yet  he  did 
not  despair,  and  the  thing  that  gave  him  confidence 
was  the  sword  at  his  side. 

"If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  I  can  only  die," 
said  he.  "When  I  leave  this  carriage  I  must  first 
seek  Monsieur  Blanc  in  the  Rue  Petit  Versailles, 
and  give  him  these  papers  to  keep.  Then — then — 
where  shall  I  go?  To  whom  shall  I  turn?" 

He  thought  of  Sophie  Linden.  Should  he  seek 
refuge  at  her  house  ?  Never !  She  was  already  at- 
tainted by  him.  De  Richelieu  had  said  that  the 
Porcheron  contract  had  been  stolen,  but  De  Lussac 
could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  her  work.  Were 
he  traced  to  her  house  and  taken  there,  she  would 
suffer  as  well  as  he. 

He  put  the  subject  from  his  mind  and  addressed 
himself  to  the  problem  of  how  he  was  to  leave  the 
carriage  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
driver. 

They  were  still  in  the  Rue  Saint  Antoine,  driving 
swiftly  westward. 


300       THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

They  had  passed  the  Rue  de  Balais  on  the  right 
and  were  drawing  near  the  church  of  Petit  Saint 
Antoine,  when  several  drays  laden  with  wood  from 
the  wood-yards  of  the  Rue  de  la  Planchette  blocked 
the  way  and  caused  the  carriage  to  slow.  Instantly 
and  like  a  discharging  volcano  the  coachman  of  De 
Richelieu  began  storming  at  the  carters,  and  cutting 
at  them  with  his  whip  as  though  they  were  dogs. 
The  whole  social  condition  of  France  lay  in  that 
little  episode,  and  the  salvation,  for  the  moment,  of 
De  Lussac,  who,  opening  the  carriage  door  and  slip- 
ping out,  closed  the  door  gently  and  made  for  the 
Rue  de  Fourci,  which  they  had  just  passed  on  the 
left. 

The  empty  carriage  drove  on. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  PORTE  ST.   BERNARD 

TO  IMAGINE  that  old  jungle  of  a  Paris  in 
which  De  Ltissac  found  himself  now,  on  foot, 
without  friends,  pursued,  or  soon  to  be  pursued  by 
the  police,  and  all  but  penniless,  one  must  look  at 
the  Paris  of  the  present  day  and  contrast  what  is 
with  what  has  vanished. 

To  the  southward  beyond  the  Bastile  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Antoine  stretched  toward  Le  Trone  in 
great  spaces  of  gardens  and  fields.  Here  one  found 
the  houses  of  religious  orders :  the  Filles  de  la  Croix, 
the  Enfants  Trouves,  Notre  Dame  de  Bon  Secours, 
Ste.  Marguerite  and  half  a  dozen  others;  the  great 
glass  manufactory  of  the  Rue  de  Revilly;  Revilly, 
itself,  with  its  gardens  and  vast  grounds. 

Casting  one's  eyes  to  the  southwest,  one  saw 
windmills  twirling  their  arms  at  Petit  Gentilly,  the 
Faubourg  St.  Jacques,  with  its  great  spaces  desti- 
tute of  houses,  broken  only  by  the  Val  de  Grace,  the 
observatory  and  Saint  Magloire,  the  Faubourg  St. 

301 


302        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

Michel,  fields  and  trees  and  windmills  and  country 
roads. 

Westward  Paris  ended,  as  far  as  the  crush  of 
houses  is  concerned,  a  little  southward  of  the  Place 
Vendome. 

Where  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore  is  now  alive 
with  traffic  and  business,  then  there  was  nothing  but 
gardens,  plots  of  land,  tree-lined  roads  and  the  man- 
sions of  the  nobility.  Some  of  the  most  splendid 
houses  in  Paris  were  to  be  found  here:  the  Hotel 
Contad,  the  Hotel  Goebrian,  the  Hotels  de  Charost, 
Montbazon,  D'Aguesseau,  and  D'Evreux ;  the  Hotel 
de  Duras,  immense  in  its  parallelogram  of  walled 
gardens,  and  the  Hotel  de  Chevilly  in  its  trianuglar 
grounds  at  the  foot  of  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 

Northward  the  heights  of  Montmartre  showed 
trees;  the  Faubourg  St.  Martin,  trees  and  the  roofs 
of  the  Hopital  St.  Louis ;  the  Faubourg  du  Temple, 
Courtille,  Pincourt — trees,  waste  spaces,  gardens, 
windmills. 

But  from  the  royal  palace  to  the  Bastile,  and 
from  the  Temple  to  Sainte  Genevieve,  across  the 
river,  there  the  houses  were  crowded,  indeed: 
house-roofs,  shrill  spires,  weathercocks,  domes  and 
towers;  ten  thousand  weathercocks,  a  hundred 
spires,  palace  roofs  and  gilded  domes;  the  blue 


THE    PORTE    ST.  BERNARD         303 

Seine  straddled  by  the  quaintest  bridges.  What  a 
sight  was  that  old  Paris  on  a  feast-day,  with  the 
bells  of  Saint  Merri  answering  the  bells  of  Saint 
Eustache,  the  carillon  of  Notre  Dame  answering  the 
carillon  of  Saint  Roche;  Saint  Martin,  Saint  Paul, 
Saint  Victor  and  Sainte  Genevieve  starring  the  blue 
sky,  each  with  a  spire  and  a  sparkle  of  sound;  the 
windmills  of  Petit  Gentilly  beckoning  to  the  wind- 
mills of  Pincourt,  and  the  blue  Seine  laughing 
through  it  all!  How  splendid,  from  a  distance,  it 
looked!  But  descend  into  those  streets  where  De 
Lussac  was  making  his  way,  and  the  splendor  van- 
ished. The  sky-piercing  spires  of  the  churches,  the 
roofs  of  the  palaces  were  forgotten.  Here  one  saw 
squalor  and  meanness,  the  half-starved  dog  and  the 
half-starved  child;  rags  and  tatters  and  human  ruin 
were  evident  on  every  side;  one  saw  the  remnants 
of  a  people  devoured  by  long  generations  of  kings, 
nobles  and  priests.  Here  one  saw  feast-days  with 
nothing  to  eat,  gilded  virgins  blessing  the  accursed, 
jeweled  saints  mocking  the  destitute,  the  king  mak- 
ing thieves  and  De  Sartines  hanging  them.  Every 
law  but  the  law  of  God,  and  the  carriage  of  the  Due 
d'Aiguillon  splashing  the  mud  of  the  streets  in  the 
faces  of  the  people. 

But  De  Lussac  had  no  eyes  for  the  sights  around 


304        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

him.  He  had  left  the  heavy  cloak  in  the  carriage, 
retaining  only  the  hat,  and  he  now  became  aware 
that  the  hat,  so  wide  of  brim  and  so  ill  matching  his 
dress,  was  attracting  the  attention  of  the  passers-by. 

The  Rue  Petit  Versailles,  for  which  he  was  aim- 
ing, lay  across  the  river;  to  reach  it  he  would  have 
to  cross  the  Isle  des  Cygnes,  so,  making  his  way 
from  the  narrow  and  dismal  street  wherein  he  was, 
he  struck  into  the  Rue  des  Fauconniers,  passed  the 
Hotel  de  Sens  and  by  way  of  the  Place  Moneils 
found  the  Pont  Marie.  He  crossed  the  Isle  des 
Cygnes,  a  veritable  little  town  made  up  of  nine  huge 
blocks  of  houses,  and  by  the  Pont  de  la  Tournelle 
found  the  left  bank  and  the  Port  au  Vin. 

So  far  he  had  not  been  recognized,  only  stared  at ; 
and,  after  all,  that  did  not  matter,  unpleasant  though 
it  was.  With  renewed  courage  he  took  his  way  past 
the  Fort  de  la  Tournelle  under  the  Porte  St.  Ber- 
nard and  past  the  wine  market;  a  long  street  of 
squalid  houses  brought  him  into  the  Rue  Petit  Ver- 
sailles, known  in  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  as  the  Rue 
Vautrin.  Here,  at  an  old  house  that  seemed  nod- 
ding forward  with  the  weight  of  years,  De  Lussac 
stopped,  pulled  the  bell  and  was  admitted. 

In  five  minutes  he  came  out  again,  walking  with  a 
lighter  step.  He  had  got  rid  of  his  papers.  The 


TH£    PORTE    ST.  BERNARD         305 

documents  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi  were  in  safe 
keeping  at  last.  Verily  the  fates  were  working  with 
him,  for  not  only  had  he  got  rid  of  the  papers,  but 
Monsieur  Blanc  had  given  him  a  piece  of  advice  as 
to  where  he  should  go  and  with  whom  he  should 
hide. 

Unfortunately  Monsieur  Blanc  could  not  give  him 
a  hat  as  well,  and  it  would  be  necessary  to  cross 
Paris  in  the  hat  he  was  wearing,  thus  drawing  the 
attention  of  every  eye.  As  he  reached  the  Porte 
St.  Bernard,  the  great  clock  of  the  Hotel  de  Breton- 
villier,  which  was  situated  at  the  eastern  angle  of 
the  Isle  des  Cygnes,  began  to  strike  the  hour.  Five 
heavy  strokes  sounded  and  died  away.  De  Lussac 
paused.  Would  it  be  better  for  him  to  seek  some 
hiding-place  till  darkness  made  it  possible  for  him 
to  cross  Paris  without  being  observed  ?  There  were 
wood-yards  here,  great  empty  spaces  deserted  by 
day,  the  camping-ground  of  thieves  by  night ;  the 
place  seemed  prepared  for  him  to  hide  in.  Should 
he  hide?  Impossible!  The  four  hours  of  inaction 
before  darkness  were  not  to  be  thought  of ;  besides, 
the  pursuit  was  not  yet  upon  him ;  even  should  he  be 
recognized  by  friends,  what  did  it  matter,  so  long  as 
he  was  recognized  by  none  of  De  Sartines'  agents? 

So  thinking,  he  passed  under  one  of  the  arches  of 


306        THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

the  Porte  St.  Bernard,  entered  the  Port  au  Vin  and 
walked  right  into  the  arms  of  Monsieur  Beauregard. 
Beauregard,  who  had  come  to  this  quarter  of  the 
city  on  some  police  business,  had  been  walking 
along,  thinking  of  a  pretty  girl  he  had  passed  on  the 
Pont  de  la  Tournelle,  when  he  found  himself  all  at 
once  face  to  face  with  De  Lussac.  The  astonish- 
ment of  one  was  mirrored  in  the  face  of  the  other. 

''Venire  Dieu!"  cried  the  gallant  Beauregard. 
"Why,  this  is  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Lussac!" 

"And,  unless  my  eyes  deceive  me,  this  is  Monsieur 
Beauregard." 

"So  they  have  set  you  free  ?" 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  De  Lussac,  "or  I  should  not 
be  standing  before  you  here." 

If  you  had  put  the  situation  before  De  Lussac  in 
his  calm  moments,  he  would  have  said,  speaking  of 
his  own  position,  "How  horrible!  In  such  a  posi- 
tion I  would  be  stricken  dumb." 

Yet,  after  the  first  shock  of  the  meeting,  he  felt 
perfectly  at  his  ease  and,  far  from  being  dumb,  he 
was  able  to  converse  fluently  and  rationally. 

Beauregard  made  a  clicking  noise  with  his  tongue. 

"Well,  that's  astonishing,  and  I  give  you  my  con- 
gratulations;  for  between  you  and  me,  my  dear 
Comte,  I  thought  you  were  badly  placed.  It  is  so 


THE    PORTE    ST.  BERNARD         307 

easy  to  get  into  La  Bastile,  but  so  deuced  difficult 
to  get  out.  But  of  course,  with  De  Richelieu  at 
your  elbow,  things  were  easier.  And  how  long  have 
you  been  free?" 

De  Lussac  paused  for  half  a  second  before  mak- 
ing his  reply,  and  Beauregard  noticed  the  pause. 

"About  an  hour." 

"Ah,  an  hour.  You  have  doubtless  left  your  car- 
riage close  by?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  I  am  on  foot."  De  Lussac,  as  he 
spoke,  turned  and  began  to  continue  his  way  across 
the  broad  space  leading  to  the  Pont  de  la  Tournelle. 
Beauregard  turned  and  walked  with  him.  The 
charming  lieutenant  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  had 
suddenly  for  the  Comte  de  Lussac  ceased  to  be  a 
man  and  had  become  an  obsession,  a  nightmare,  a 
thing  not  to  be  borne. 

He  stopped  dead. 

"Monsieur  Beauregard,"  said  he,  "I  must  wish 
you  good  day." 

"Monsieur  le  Comte,"  replied  Beauregard,  "I  am 
walking  your  way.  Let  us  cross  the  Pont  de  la 
Tournelle  together.  I  have  many  things  to  say  to 
you." 

"As,  for  instance — " 

"As,  for  instance,  Monsieur,  it  surprises  me  to 


308        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

find  you  here  alone  and  on  foot,  wearing  a  hat 
which  obviously  does  not  belong  to  you." 

"Aha !"  said  De  Lussac,  without  moving  an  inch. 
"You  criticize  my  dress?" 

"No,  Monsieur,  only  your  hat." 

"Well,"  replied  the  comte,  "let  me  say  that  if  my 
hat  displeases  you,  I,  in  my  turn,  take  exception  to 
you  altogether.  It  does  not  please  me  to  walk  through 
Paris  with  a  thief-catcher  dressed  as  a  noble." 

Beauregard  flushed  red  as  a  lobster. 

"That  was  ill  said,  Monsieur  le  Comte.  That  was 
ill  said.  My  family  is  not  behind  the  family  of  the 
De  Lussacs,  and  my  position  as  chief  under  the 
lieutenant-general  of  police  is  not  beneath  contempt. 
Ah,  Monsieur,  it  is  easy  to  be  seen  in  your  person 
how  the  association  with  the  pettifoggers  of  sedi- 
tion, the  pamphleteers  and  the  canaille  rusts  the  no- 
bility in  a  man's  nature,  destroys  the  gold  and  brings 
the  brass  to  light." 

"Monsieur,"  said  De  Lussac,  "you  have  twice  in- 
sulted me,  all  our  political  differences  vanish,  this 
is  a  matter  between  you  and  me.  Follow  me,  Mon- 
sieur, or  by  the  living  God  I  will  either  pass  my 
sword  through  your  heart  or  chastise  you  with  the 
scabbard  like  a  dog." 


THE    PORTE    ST.  BERNARD         309 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  and  Beauregard,  choking 
in  his  gorget  of  gold  lace,  blind  with  rage  and  trem- 
bling with  passion,  followed  him  under  the  Porte 
St.  Bernard  and  then  along  the  Port  St.  Bernard 
which  lined  the  bank  of  the  river. 

To  the  left  lay  the  river,  where  boats  were  moored 
to  the  bank,  to  the  right  the  vast  wood-yards  and 
open  spaces,  desolate  and  almost  deserted. 

De  Lussac  led  the  way  by  the  wall  skirting  these 
yards  till  he  reached  the  entrance  to  them.  At  each 
side  of  the  entrance  way  stood  a  watch-house,  and 
here  a  man  was  always  on  guard  to  prevent  pilfer- 
ing from  the  woodpiles. 

When  he  saw  the  two  noblemen  approaching,  the 
watchman  left  his  little  box  and  came  and  stood  in 
the  open,  looking  at  them  and  evidently  wondering 
what  their  business  might  be. 

De  Lussac  took  the  louis  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  to  the  man. 

"This  gentleman  and  I  have  some  private  business 
to  transact,"  said  the  comte.  "We  do  not  wish  to 
be  disturbed,  you  understand?" 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  delighted  watchman, 

'  'tis  not  for  me  to  disturb  you,  my  Lord.    Beyond 

those  woodpiles  there  is  a  big  open  space,  room 


3io        THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

enough  and  sheltered  from  the  port."  He  glanced 
at  the  swords  the  gentlemen  carried,  and  laughed. 

"Come,"  said  De  Lussac,  and  followed  by  Beaure- 
gard  he  found  the  place  indicated,  an  ideal  spot  for 
the  business  in  hand. 

There  were  no  preliminaries ;  the  antagonists  sim- 
ply stripped  off  their  coats,  drew  their  swords,  and 
set  to. 

Beauregard  was  accounted  one  of  the  best  swords- 
men in  France,  but  no  sooner  had  the  swords 
crossed  than  he  knew  himself  matched.  De  Lussac 
attacked  with  the  ferocity  of  a  wolf,  the  cunning  of 
a  master  of  arms  and  a  wrist  of  steel;  the  swords 
clung  together,  kissed,  parted,  quarreled;  twenty 
times  the  sword  of  Beauregard  shot  like  a  ribbon  of 
light  toward  the  breast  of  De  Lussac,  only  to  be  de- 
flected by  the  parrying  blade  which  in  its  turn  at- 
tacked only  to  be  foiled  and  spend  its  venom  on  the 
air. 

The  quarreling  of  the  steel  could  be  heard  by  the 
watchman  at  the  gate,  who  could  tell  by  the  sound 
the  fury  of  the  encounter. 

Beauregard,  cool  up  to  now,  had  given  no  points 
to  his  adversary,  but  now  the  animal  fury  of  the 
man  broke  out;  he  made  a  slight  fault,  saved  him- 
self, slipped,  recovered,  made  a  terrible  lunge  which 


The  quarreling  of  the  steel  could  be  heard  by  the  watchman  at  the  gate 


THE    PORTE    ST.  BERNARD         311 

De  Lussac  parried.  Then,  while  Beauregard  was  re- 
covering himself,  the  comte,  swift  as  lightning,  got 
home  and  drove  his  rapier  through  the  body  of  his 
antagonist,  who  fell  as  though  struck  by  a  thunder- 
bolt. 

The  sword  had  passed  through  the  right  side  of 
his  chest  between  the  fifth  and  sixth  ribs,  disengag- 
ing itself  as  he  fell. 

He  lay  with  his  eyes  staring  wildly  as  De  Lussac, 
on  his  knees,  rendered  what  assistance  he  could. 
The  comte,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  stanch  the 
bleeding,  which  was  inconsiderable,  wisely  content- 
ed himself  with  pillowing  the  wounded  man's  head 
on  his  coat. 

Beauregard,  who  had  closed  his  eyes,  opened 
them  again. 

"Mordieu!"  muttered  he.  "You  have  finished  me 
this  time.  Go,  make  your  escape,  but  tell  the  watch- 
man to  send  for  help."  He  fainted,  and  De  Lussac, 
hastily  putting  on  his  coat,  wiped  his  sword  with 
some  grass  which  he  tore  up  from  a  patch  close  by, 
and  returned  it  to  its  scabbard.  As  he  did  so,  a  pa- 
per protruding  from  Beauregard's  belt  drew  his  at- 
tention. 

He  took  it  and  examined  it.  It  was  an  order  for 
the  arrest  of  Louis  Blanc,  the  man  to  whom  he  had 


312        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

intrusted  the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the  Midi. 

Now,  it  was  evident  what  Beauregard's  business 
had  been  in  this  quarter  of  the  town.  Their  meet- 
ing had  been  caused  by  that  law  which  we  might 
call  the  Regulation  of  Interests,  and  De  Lussac, 
placing  the  paper  in  his  pocket  and  casting  a  last 
look  at  the  stricken  one,  hurried  from  the  place, 
giving  orders  to  the  watchman  to  fetch  assistance. 
He  hurriedly  returned  to  the  Rue  Petit  Versailles, 
warned  Blanc  to  change  his  residence  immediately, 
returned  to  the  Port  St.  Bernard,  and  was  crossing 
the  Pont  de  la  Tournelle  when  a  heavy  and  sullen 
report  shook  the  sky. 

It  was  the  voice  of  La  Bastile  announcing  the 
trick  that  had  been  played  upon  her. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LUCK  AND  DE  LUSSAC 

THE  report  of  the  cannon  stopped  De  Lussac 
as  though  a  wall  had  suddenly  arisen  before 
him.  At  that  sound  every  agent  in  Paris  would  be 
on  the  alert ;  horsemen  were  no  doubt  now  galloping 
to  the  Hotel  de  Sartines  with  the  news.  He  would 
have  returned  and  sought  a  hiding-place  in  the 
wood-yards,  but  that  course  was  now  blocked  by 
Beauregard.  The  place  would  be  swarming  with 
people,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  go  on 
and  make  a  dash  for  the  house  that  Monsieur  Blanc 
had  indicated  to  him ;  though  to  reach  that  house  he 
would  have  to  pass  through  many  streets. 

He  crossed  the  Isle  des  Cygnes  by  the  Rue  des 
Deux  Fonts,  found  the  Place  Moneils  on  the  oppo- 
site bank  and  just  where  the  Rue  des  Armes  entered 
the  place  saw  a  carriage  standing,  evidently  in  wait- 
ing for  some  one. 

It  was  the  very  same  carriage  in  which  he  had 
been  driven  to  the  Bastile  yesterday  by  Beauregard, 

313 


314        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

but  fortunately  it  was  not  driven  by  the  same  coach- 
man. This  man  who  sat  on  the  box,  yawning  and 
flicking  at  the  flies  with  his  whip,  was  younger- 
looking  than  the  man  of  the  preceding  day  and  alto- 
gether different.  De  Lussac,  almost  amazed  at  his 
own  audacity  and  resource,  walked  straight  toward 
the  carriage,  taking,  as  he  went,  the  order  of  arrest 
for  Monsieur  Blanc  from  his  pocket. 

The  coachman  eyed  him  as  he  came,  then,  seeing 
that  he  was  coming  toward  the  carriage,  he  sat  up 
from  his  lounging  attitude  and  assumed  an  air  of 
attention. 

De  Lussac  let  the  man  see  him  reading  the  official 
paper  which  bore  the  stamp  of  the  Hotel  de  Sartines 
a  league  off,  and  even  before  speaking  to  the  driver 
he  opened  the  door  of  the  coach. 

"Monsieur  Beauregard  is  detained.  The  man  he 
is  in  search  of  has  flown.  Meanwhile  he  is  waiting. 
You  are  to  drive  me  to  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  set  me 
down  there  and  return  immediately  for  your  mas- 
ter." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  said  the  coachman,  taking  De 
Lussac  for  one  of  those  spies  of  police  who  at  that 
day  were  found  in  all  ranks  of  society  and  the  pay 
of  the  ministry. 

"And  do  not  spare  your  horses." 


LUCK    AND    DE   LUSSAC  315 

"No,  Monsieur." 

De  Lussac  got  in,  closed  the  door,  and  the  vehicle 
started.  The  Rue  de  la  Harpe  was  only  two 
streets  from  the  street  he  wished  to  reach,  and  De 
Lussac,  leaning  back  on  the  cushions  of  the  police 
carriage,  breathed  again  freely.  The  escape  of  La- 
tude  from  La  Bastile  was  nothing  to  this  miraculous 
escape  conducted  in  the  full  light  of  day  and  with 
the  unconscious  aid  of  the  police  themselves.  Not 
only  had  he  escaped,  but  he  had  wrested  from  his 
enemies  papers  that  were  vital  to  them.  Not  only 
had  he  captured  these  papers,  but  he  had  placed 
them  in  the  safe-keeping  of  the  only  man  who  could 
profitably  use  them.  Not  only  had  he  done  that, 
but  he  had  discovered  the  intention  of  the  govern- 
ment to  imprison  Monsieur  Blanc,  and  had  warned 
him.  His  sword  had  cut  every  way  and  always  it 
had  stricken  his  enemies.  Luck  had  helped  him,  no 
doubt,  but  he  had  also  helped  luck. 

Such  luck  does  not  last  without  a  break,  however, 
and  the  mettle  of  De  Lussac  had  still  to  be  put  to  a 
test  that  would  have  broken  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  men  out  of  a  thousand. 

The  carriage  had  turned  from  the  Rue  des  Balais 
into  the  Rue  Pavee,  it  had  passed  the  Hotel  de  La- 
moignon  and  was  abreast  of  the  monstrous  high 


3i6        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

blank:  wall  of  the  Filles  Bleues  when  it  stopped.  De 
Lussac  looked  out  of  the  left-hand  window  and 
saw  approaching  them  the  agent  who  had  driven 
them  yesterday.  He  had  seen  the  carriage  ap- 
proaching and  signaled  to  it  to  stop.  Without  doubt 
he  was  aware  of  De  Lussac's  escape  and  had  stopped 
the  carriage  to  communicate  the  fact  to  Monsieur 
Beauregard. 

This  would  have  been  the  end  of  all  things  to 
most  men,  but  this  poet  and  dreamer  so  terrible  in 
action,  undaunted,  flung  the  door  of  the  carriage 
open  and  shut  it  again,  turned  on  the  agent,  who 
was  now  at  his  elbow,  felled  him  with  a  blow  on  the 
point  of  the  chin,  whipped  his  sword  from  its  scab- 
bard, and  turned  on  the  driver  of  the  carriage,  who, 
bundling  off  the  box,  fled  toward  the  Rue  des  Balais, 
pursued  for  ten  yards  or  so  by  the  man  with  the 
sword. 

Then  De  Lussac,  running  back  toward  the  car- 
riage and  sheathing  his  sword  as  he  ran,  sprang  on 
the  box,  seized  the  reins  and  the  whip  from  its 
socket,  and  started  the  horses.  The  whole  affair 
had  happened  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  but  sev- 
eral people  who  had  been  in  the  street  were  now 
shouting  and  running  after  the  carriage;  the  coward 
driver  had  turned  and  was  calling  on  others  to  fol- 


LUCK   AND    DE   LUSSAC  317 

low  him.  Speed  was  De  Lussac's  only  chance,  and 
fortunately  for  him  the  horses  were  as  swift  as  they 
were  powerful.  The  long  stretch  of  the  Rue  Pavee 
that  lay  before  him  gave  him  his  chance.  He  took 
it  at  a  full  gallop,  turned  the  wide  corner  into  the 
Rue  Bleue  and  found  himself  out  of  sight  of  his 
pursuers.  Then,  reining  the  horses  to  a  swift  trot, 
he  headed  for  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  feeling  that  vic- 
tory at  last  was  his. 

The  precaution  that  he  had  taken  of  closing  the 
carriage  door  was  not  the  least  part  of  his  victory. 
With  a  swinging  door  he  would  most  certainly  have 
drawn  the  attention  and  perhaps  pursuit  of  the  peo- 
ple in  the  Rue  Bleue. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  drew  up  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Harpe,  dismounted  from  the  box  and,  leaving  the 
carriage  to  take  care  of  itself,  turned  into  the  Rue 
Monis,  a  narrow  street  leading  directly  into  the  Rue 
Plastriere. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  was  pulling  at  the  queasy 
bell  of  the  house  before  which  we  saw  Madame  Lin- 
den interviewing  Monsieur  Rousseau  of  Geneva. 


CHAPTER  X 
ROUSSEAU'S  DREAM 

THE  unfortunate  Rousseau  had  spent  a  most 
miserable  day.  He  was  one  of  those  people 
who  are  destitute  of  the  sense  of  humor,  a  magnifier 
of  trifles.  No  sooner  had  he  returned  to  his  house 
with  the  packet  given  to  him  by  Madame  Linden  and 
placed  it  in  an  old  bureau  of  the  room  where  he 
worked,  than  he  regretted  having  mixed  himself  up 
in  the  business  at  all. 

He  had  mixed  himself  up  with  an  intrigue,  the 
magnetism  of  Madame  Linden  no  longer  held  him, 
and  the  deep  distrust  with  which  this  extraordinary 
man  viewed  his  fellow-creatures  once  more  had  him 
in  its  grip. 

He  sat  down  in  an  old  arm-chair  by  the  spinet 
which  stood  opposite  the  door  of  the  dusty  sitting- 
room,  and  fell  to  considering  the  position.  De  Lus- 
sac  he  had  known  and  respected*  as  a  young  man, 
wealthy,  of  noble  birth  and  fine  appearance,  who, 
despite  these  worldly  gifts,  had  displayed  an  earnest- 


ROUSSEAU'S    DREAM  319 

ness  of  thought  strangely  at  variance  with  the  frank 
futility  marking  the  thought  of  the  court;  but  he 
knew  little  else  about  the  comte,  except  that  he  was 
an  admirer  and  disciple  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

Unhappy  Rousseau !  Like  many  a  great  man,  he 
had  doubts  of  his  own  infallibility;  he  who  doubts 
others  becomes  a  doubter  of  his  own  merits,  and  the 
distrust  he  had  suddenly  conceived  for  this  pupil  of 
his  was  spreading  now  to  himself. 

He  felt  as  a  Buddhist  priest  might  feel  whose 
Chelah  has  suddenly  gone  daft  and  run  amuck — 
without  the  priest's  religious  stand-by. 

What  had  De  Lussac  done?  He  did  not  know, 
and  yet  he  had  flung  in  his  lot  with  De  Lussac. 
Whatever  De  Lussac  had  done,  it  was  bad  enough 
in  the  eyes  of  the  government  to  result  in  his  incar- 
ceration in  the  Bastile. 

The  unpractical  dreamer  in  the  arm-chair,  this 
visionary  who,  all  the  same,  in  the  few  pages  of 
Le  Contrat  Social  fissured  the  old  world  of 
thought  like  a  ball  of  glass  and  freed  the  dream 
of  man's  freedom  like  a  bubble ;  this  giant  who  was 
also  a  child  suddenly  smote  himself  a  mighty  blow 
on  the  forehead. 

Could  Voltaire  be  at  the  bottom  of  all  this  ?  The 
pretty  woman,  the  mysterious  packet,  the  impris- 


320        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

oned  friend :  could  all  this  be  a  plot  laid  for  his  ruin 
by  that  arch  enemy,  that  brocaded  monkey,  that  fat 
Frangois  Marie  Arouet  de  Voltaire ! 

The  thought  completed  his  misery,  and  just  as  a 
child  takes  to  sucking  its  "comforter"  for  consola- 
tion, so  did  our  philosopher  turn  to  his  spinet.  He 
sat  down  before  it  and  struck  a  few  notes.  And 
now,  mystery  of  the  creative  imagination !  Though 
his  troubles  were  not  forgotten,  they  had  in  some 
magic  way  opened  the  doors  of  that  temple  of  the 
brain  where  Music  sits  and  dreams. 

An  hour  later  he  was  seated  at  the  table  with 
some  music-paper  before  him. 

Therese  had  gone  off  for  the  day,  leaving  behind 
her  a  potato  salad  for  his  dinner.  At  four  o'clock, 
urged  by  the  sensation  of  hunger,  he  searched  for 
and  found  the  salad,  devoured  it  and  found  that  he 
had  wrecked  the  music  in  his  head;  fell  asleep,  and 
was  awakened  by  the  ringing  of  the  bell. 

Thinking  it  was  Therese  returned,  he  hurried 
down,  and  found  De  Lussac  at  the  door. 

It  was  only  when  he  had  reached  Rousseau's 
steps  that  De  Lussac  felt  the  effects  of  his  long  fast. 
He  had  not  eaten  that  day,  and  he  had  gone  through 
adventures  sufficient  to  tax  the  strongest  man. 

He  almost  fell  into  Rousseau's  arms. 


ROUSSEAU'S    DREAM  321 

"I  am  pursued,"  said  he,  "and,  mordleu!  I  can 
scarcely  stand.  Shelter  me,  my  friend,  and  give  me 
something  to  eat;  I  am  fainting!" 

Rousseau,  a  rabbit  a  moment  ago  but  a  lion  now, 
cast  his  arm  round  the  comte  to  support  him.  He 
would  have  defied  the  whole  Hotel  de  Sartines, 
guards,  Swiss  soldiers,  lieutenant-general  and  all, 
had  they  arrived  to  claim  their  prisoner.  For  this 
sentimentalist,  this  dreamer,  this  timorous  spinet- 
tinkler  was  a  man  at  heart.  Always  fearful  of  the 
things  that  lay  in  the  future,  brought  face  to  face 
with  real  danger,  called  on  by  real  distress,  he  had 
no  fear. 

He  led  the  comte  up  the  rickety  stairs,  placed  him 
in  the  arm-chair,  and,  darting  into  the  kitchen,  which 
was  also  the  parlor,  began  to  search  for  food.  He 
found  a  pie  prepared  by  Therese  for  their  supper,  a 
bottle  of  wine,  some  bread  and  a  knife,  fork  and 
plate. 

When  De  Lussac  had  finished  half  a  bottle  of 
wine  and  made  terrible  inroads  into  the  sacred  pie, 
the  blood  returned  to  his  cheeks  and  life  began  for 
him  again. 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  he  told  his  tale  from 
the  very  beginning,  and  Rousseau  listened,  astound- 
ed and  perplexed ;  he  could  not  reconcile  the  rnan  of 


322        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

intellect,  the  delicate,  graceful  and  gracious  De  Lus- 
sac,  with  the  terrible  hornet  that  had  burst  from  the 
Bastile,  half  strangling  De  Richelieu,  striking  Beau- 
regard  with  its  sting,  smiting  and  pursuing  in  broad 
day  the  agents  of  De  Sartines,  buzzing  its  victorious 
way  across  Paris  and  lighting  at  his  steps  in  the  re- 
sumed form  of  the  graceful  and  delicate  De  Lussac. 

It  was  an  object  lesson  in  that  most  difficult  sub- 
ject, man,  delivered  as  if  by  heaven  to  this  philos- 
opher who  had  made  mankind  his  study. 

"Mordieu!"  said  he,  permitting  himself  for  once 
to  swear,  "what  you  tell  me  sounds  like  a  conte  by 
Monsieur  Tolbas.  And  is  this  Monsieur  de  Beaure- 
gard  likely  to  die  of  his  wounds?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  De  Lussac.  "I  trust  not. 
Should  he  die,  however,  my  mind  is  clear  on  the 
matter.  I  did  it  in  self-defense." 

"Ay,  ay,"  replied  Rousseau;  "in  self-defense,  but 
all  the  same,  he  acted  from  duty.  You  killed  him  in 
the  execution  of  his  duty." 

"Pardon  me,"  cut  in  the  other.  "Do  not  say 
'killed',  for  I  left  him  still  living." 

But  Jean  Jacques  heard  him  not  He  had  risen 
to  his  feet  and  was  pacing  the  floor,  urged  by  his  in- 
fernal imagination. 


ROUSSEAU'S    DREAM  323 

"To  kill  a  man  in  the  execution  of  his  duty  is  a 
grave  offense.  I  am  not  speaking  of  the  human  law, 
but  of  that  moral  code  which  is  part  of  the  structure 
of  the  human  mind — " 

"But,  Monsieur,  I  have  not  killed  him;  and  our 
quarrel  was  private ;  he  insulted  my  hat,  I  challenged 
him,  and  he  fell.  Such  things  happen  every  day  in 
Paris." 

"Yes,  so  do  murders  and  larcenies.  Stay;  I  do 
not  wish  to  stand  in  judgment  over  you.  Who  am 
I  to  do  so?  But  I  think,  Monsieur,  you  have  been 
precipitate.  In  breaking  from  prison  you  laid  your- 
self out  a  course  that  inevitably  entailed  disaster  to 
others,  if  not  to  yourself.  Take,  for  instance,  Mon- 
sieur le  Due  de  Richelieu." 

"He  is  not  hurt." 

"This  Monsieur  de  Beauregard." 

"He  will  recover." 

"The  agent—" 

"Whom  I  felled?  Oh,  mordieu!  I  wager  he  is 
even  now  joining  in  the  hunt  for  me." 

"Take  myself.  I  give  you  refuge,  but  in  doing  so 
I  endanger  my  own  very  safety.  You  have  been  pre- 
cipitate, whereas  you  should  have  been  philosoph- 
ical." 


324       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"In  what  way?"  asked  De  Lussac,  who  had  risen 
to  his  feet. 

"You  should  have  remained  in  his  majesty's  fort- 
ress of  the  Bastile,  and  sent  for  me.  I  would  have 
seen  the  king,  I  would  have  used  my  influence ; 
your  friends  would  have  helped  me — then  all  would 
have  been  well." 

De  Lussac  had  not  told  Jean  Jacques  of  the  docu- 
ment which  had  led  to  all  this  trouble,  simply  stating 
that  his  imprisonment  was  due  to  his  connection 
with  the  Society  of  the  Midi;  nor  did  he  tell  him 
now. 

"Monsieur,"  said  he,  moving  toward  the  door, 
"what  you  say  is  true.  My  presence  here  is  inimical 
to  your  safety.  I  go." 

"You  will  not,"  replied  Rousseau,  placing  himself 
before  the  door.  "No,  Monsieur,  you  have  cast 
yourself  on  my  protection,  and  my  protection  you 
shall  have.  Besides,  you  have  another  friend  with 
\vhom  I  must  communicate." 

He  told  of  the  Baroness  Linden's  visit  that  morn- 
ing, of  the  packet  she  had  asked  him  to  keep  and  of 
her  statement  that  the  packet  contained  a  weapon 
giving  her  entire  power  over  the  fate  of  Monsieur 
de  Sartines.  As  he  told  this,  De  Lussac  sat  down 
again  in  his  chair.  He  saw  the  situation  at  a  glance. 


ROUSSEAU'S    DREAM  325 

Madame  Linden  had,  indeed,  in  some  miraculous 
manner,  succeeded  in  gaining  possession  of  the  Por- 
cheron  paper.  He  remembered  De  Richelieu's  words, 
the  statement  about  her  visit.  Heavens !  what  devo- 
tion, what  genius  had  been  working  on  his  behalf! 
She  had  risked  even- thing  for  him:  liberty  and 
honor  itself. 

Rousseau  noticed  that  the  young  man's  eyes  had 
become  filled  with  tears,  that  his  hands  were  trem- 
bling ;  his  lips  too. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Rousseau,  Monsieur  Rousseau," 
said  De  Lussac,  suddenly  leaning  on  the  table  and 
covering  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  "Philosophy — wis- 
dom— what  is  it  all  compared  to  the  love  of  the  heart 
that  never  reasons  and  knows  not  fear?  The  lady 
you  speak  of,  the  woman  you  saw  to-day,  has  given 
me  life  and  liberty  at  the  risk  of  her  own  liberty  and 
life.  You  have  never  seen  any  one  more  lovely  than 
she,  and  you  will  never  see  anything  more  beautiful 
than  her  act.  This  packet  for  which  she  risked 
everything  must  remain  in  your  keeping  till  she 
sends  for  it.  I  do  not  know  her  plans,  but  I  shall 
know  them  to-night.  If  you  will  give  me  a  corner 
to  lie  in  till  dusk,  I  will  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep, 
and  then  I  will  seek  her  house.  You  need  have  no 
fear ;  the  weapon  she  holds  protects  us  all — you  who 


326        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

have  given  me  shelter  and  I  who  have  craved  it.  In- 
deed, I  would  set  out  now  for  her  house,  only  that 
to  enter  it  in  the  broad  light  of  day  might  interfere 
with  whatever  plans  she  has  formed.  She  is  doubt- 
less watched." 

Rousseau,  without  a  word,  led  the  way  into  the 
parlor  and  pointed  to  the  couch.  He  shut  the  door 
on  the  young  man  and  returned  to  the  workroom, 
glanced  at  the  music-paper  on  the  table,  and  sat 
down  before  it. 

His  mind  was  very  much  perturbed;  alone  now 
with  his  fears  and  apprehensions,  he  forgot  every- 
thing but  them.  At  any  moment  he  felt  that  the  po- 
lice— despite  De  Lussac's  assurances — might  arrive, 
and  even  more  than  the  police  he  dreaded  the  arrival 
of  Therese.  He  could  have  wept  at  the  mess  he  had 
got  himself  into.  Then  his  mind  sought  refuge  in 
sound;  electrified  by  the  troubles  he  was  passing 
through,  his  musical  intellect  became  again  abnor- 
mally clear.  De  Lussac,  had  he  not  been  sound 
asleep,  might  have  heard  the  faint  tinkling  of  the 
spinet,  and  at  dusk,  when  the  comte  opened  the  door 
of  the  workroom  to  take  his  leave,  he  found  the 
master  seated  at  the  table,  with  a  complete  musical 
manuscript  before  him. 


ROUSSEAU'S    DREAM  327 

It  was  Rousseau's  Dream,  destined  to  be  tinkled 
forth  on  every  spinet  in  Europe,  begun  in  distraction, 
wrecked  by  a  potato  salad,  and  finished  in  the  per- 
turbation of  spirit  that  drives  some  men  to  wine  and 
some  men  to  music. 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   CAMPAIGN    OF    MADAME 

MADAME  LINDEN,  having  taken  her  depar- 
ture from  the  Hotel  de  Richelieu,  drove  to 
her  house  in  the  Rue  Coq  Heron.    Her  plan  of  cam- 
paign against  De  Sartines  was  developing  into  ac- 
tion with  admirable  precision. 

One  might  have  imagined  that  her  first  thought 
on  finding  herself  in  possession  of  the  Porcheron 
document  would  have  been  the  freedom  of  De  Lus- 
sac.  She,  however,  was  quite  unaware  of  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  comte  and  absolutely  ignorant  of  the 
terrors  of  imprisonment  in  the  Bastile.  Her  plan 
against  De  Sartines  included  the  release  of  De  Lus- 
sac  that  evening  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  few 
hours  of  imprisonment  more  or  less  did  not  matter. 
Assured  of  her  power  to  free  him,  she  put  De  Lus- 
sac  from  her  mind.  De  Joyeuse,  Madame  de  Sten- 
lis,  and  Madame  d'Harlancourt  she  had  dealt  with 
and  punished  sufficiently  for  their  petty  offenses; 
De  Sartines  alone  occupied  her  thoughts.  Her 

331 


332        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

hatred  for  De  Sartines  had  become  during  the  last 
hour  a  passion ;  that  word  of  insult  spoken  by  him 
before  De  Richelieu  and  the  others  had  completed 
what  his  acts  had  begun.  Her  heart  held  no  mercy 
for  him. 

When  she  arrived  at  her  house  she  dismissed  the 
carriage,  was  admitted  by  Rosine,  and  went  up- 
stairs calling  on  the  maid  to  follow  her. 

"Where  is  Placide?"  asked  madame. 

"Ma  foi,  where  indeed!"  replied  Rosine.  "In 
some  cabaret  most  likely ;  he  went  out  at  twelve  and 
now  'tis  half  past  two  and  he  has  not  returned." 

"Well,  never  mind  him,  but  when  he  returns  send 
him  to  me.  And  now  to  work.  My  boxes  must  all 
be  packed,  for  I  leave  Paris  to-night  at  ten  o'clock." 

"To-night,  Madame !" 

"Yes,  to-night;  and  I  give  a  small  reception  at 
eight." 

"But,  Madame—" 

"I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  You  need 
not  trouble ;  there  will  be  no  preparations  or  worry 
about  food.  Monsieur  de  Sartines  will  provide  the 
entertainment."  Madame  looked  grimly  around  her, 
then  she  went  to  her  bureau  and  wrote  three  notes 
while  Rosine  stood  by  waiting. 

"Here  are  three  letters,"  said  madame  as  she  fin- 


THE   CAMPAIGN    OF    MADAME     333 

ished  the  last,  folded  it  and  sealed  it.  "This  one  is 
to  the  landlord,  Monsieur  de  Gorges,  telling  him  I 
give  up  the  house  to-day.  Take  it  to  him  at  once; 
also  this  letter  to  Boehmer,  the  jeweler,  and  this  to 
Behrens,  the  haberdasher ;  they  are  to  bring  my  pur- 
chases here  to-night  at  eight.  Take  them.  Stay; 
what  is  that?" 

A  carriage  had  drawn  up  in  the  street  and  some 
one  had  rung  the  door-bell.  Madame  crossed  the 
room  and  looked  out.  She  saw  beyond  the  rails  of 
the  courtyard  a  carriage,  but  the  visitor  had  evi- 
dently been  admitted,  for  there  was  no  sign  of  any 
one  in  the  courtyard. 

"Go,"  said  she  to  Rosine;  "see  who  it  is,  and 
should  it  by  any  chance  be  Monsieur  de  Sartines, 
say  that  I  am  out." 

A  moment  later  Rosine  came  running  up. 

"Monsieur  de  Maupeou  has  called,  Madame,  and 
wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

"Monsieur  de  Maupeou?    Well,  show  him  up." 

Rosine  left  the  room  and  the  baroness  presently 
heard  the  heavy  step  of  the  vice-chancellor  on  the 
stairs.  The  door  opened  and  Rosine's  sprightly 
voice  announced :  "Monsieur  de  Maupeou." 

De  Maupeou,  whom  we  have  scarcely  seen  up  to 
this,  was  a  personage  with  a  funereal  air,  a  face  yel- 


334       THE   MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

low  as  the  parchments  of  the  law,  and  a  coat  of 
black  velvet  worn  the  least  bit  at  the  seams ;  as  if  to 
make  up  for  this  touch  of  business  on  the  coat,  his 
ruffles  were  of  the  finest  lace  and  his  right  hand,  half 
buried  in  its  ruffles,  showed  the  sparkle  of  a  dia- 
mond. 

Despite  the  gloom  and  sobriety  of  his  appearance 
there  was  a  touch  of  magnificence  about  this  man, 
and  despite  the  suggestion  of  parchment,  a  touch  of 
fire.  Now,  at  this  moment,  standing  before  Ma- 
dame la  Baronne,  the  president  of  the  law-courts 
had  assumed  his  most  gracious  air.  He  bowed  as 
though  he  were  standing  before  the  dauphiness,  and 
as  he  took  the  seat  which  she  indicated  he  plunged 
at  once  into  the  business  on  hand. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "this  morning  I  received  a 
note  indicating  that  if  I  called  to-day  at  Monsieur 
le  Due  de  Richelieu's  house  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Honore  at  one  o'clock,  I  should  see  something  of 
interest  to  me  as  vice-chancellor  of  France.  Also 
that  I  was  to  make  no  reference  to  the  note  but  sim- 
ply call  as  a  friend  of  Monsieur  de  Richelieu." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  baroness,  "I  wrote  that 
note." 

"Ah,  you  wrote  that  note.     Well,  Madame,  it  is 


THE   CAMPAIGN    OF    MADAME     335 

to  the  honor  of  my  perspicacity  that  I  guessed  the 
fact." 

She  bowed.  "And  what  you  saw — did  it  interest 
you,  Monsieur?" 

"Profoundly." 

"That  is  well.  I  always  like  to  perform  what  I 
promise.  Well,  Monsieur,  if  you  accept  the  invita- 
tion I  gave  you  to  my  house  this  evening,  I  will 
promise  you  a  sight  even  more  interesting  than  that 
which  you  beheld  at  the  house  of  Monsieur  de  Rich- 
elieu." 

"Madame,"  said  De  Maupeou,  "the  sight  which  I 
beheld  this  morning  interested  me  mainly  by  the  fact 
that  I  did  not  understand  it  at  all.  May  I  speak 
plainly?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  I  saw  Monsieur  de  Sartines  in  a  state  of 
agitation." 

"Yes." 

"I  saw  three  personages  of  the  court  on  their 
knees  before  a  lady  whom  they  hate  for  her  beauty 
and  wit." 

"Yes." 

"And  I  heard  them  asking  pardon  of  her  under 
the  pretense  of  playing  a  comedy." 


336        THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Yes." 

"When  you  invited  us  all  here  to-night  I  was 
watching  Monsieur  de  Sartines'  face.  Madame,  to 
be  brief,  you  hold  a  very  high  percentage  in  your 
hand." 

"Again  you  are  right,  Monsieur." 

"He  is  your  enemy,  for  'tis  well  known,  Madame, 
in  the  circles  of  justice  that  he — hum — " 

"Holds  me  in  suspicion.  Oh,  Monsieur,  he  has 
done  more  than  that ;  he  has  insulted  me  three  times, 
and  for  each  of  those  insults  I  have  sworn  revenge." 

De  Maupeou  smiled.  "Upon  my  faith,  Madame," 
said  he,  "all  you  tell  me  exactly  confirms  what  log- 
ical reasoning  has  made  me  suspect,  and  now,  to  be 
brief  again,  I  do  not  know  nor  do  I  want  to  know, 
what  act  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  has  placed  him  in 
your  bad  graces,  but  this  I  must  know :  am  I  invited 
to  your  house  to-night  in  my  official  capacity  or  sim- 
ply as  Monsieur  de  Maupeou?" 

"In  your  official  capacity,  Monsieur." 

"To  meet—" 

"A  criminal  who  has  conspired  against  the  wel- 
fare of  the  state." 

"Madame,  this  is  a  serious  matter,  and  I  warn 
you  if  I  come  to  your  house  to-night,  I  shall  come 
armed  with  terrible  powers." 


THE   CAMPAIGN    OF    MADAME     337 

"Come  armed  as  you  please,  Monsieur,  only  I 
warn  you  of  this :  if  you  display  your  power  before 
the  right  moment  arrives  you  will  spoil  all." 

"Madame,"  replied  he,  rising  to  go,  "I  leave  the 
matter  in  your  hands,  assured  as  I  am  that  your  aim 
is  the  same  as  mine — justice.  I  shall  be  with  you 
to-night." 

He  took  his  leave,  entered  his  carriage,  and  gave 
his  coachman  the  order  "Versailles." 

His  hatred  of  De  Sartines  had  been  a  growth  of 
years,  one  of  those  hatreds  complex  as  a  mechanism 
and  cold  as  ice,  despite  the  fire  that  keeps  it  alive. 
He  knew  much  against  De  Sartines,  but  he  had 
never  been  able  to  make  use  of  his  knowledge.  In- 
stinct told  him  now  that  this  woman  was  probably 
the  instrument  he  had  been  long  searching  for.  That 
she  had  the  lieutenant-general  of  police  in  her  grip 
was  self-evident. 

"A  criminal  who  has  conspired  against  the  wel- 
fare of  the  state."  He  kept  mumbling  the  words 
over  as  though  they  pleased  him.  The  criminal 
could  be  none  other  than  De  Sartines.  What  crime 
had  he  committed  out  of  the  many  possible  crimes 
that  he  might  commit  ?  De  Maupeou  could  not  tell, 
nor  did  he  care  so  long  as  the  crime  was  big  enough. 

An  hour  and  a  half  after  leaving  Paris,  that  is  to 


338        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

say  at  about  twenty  minutes  past  four,  De  Mau- 
peou's  carriage  entered  the  courtyard  of  Versailles. 
We  have  said  that  at  this  period  the  dinner-hour  of 
the  nobility  was  four  o'clock;  that  of  the  king  five. 
From  this  it  followed  that  from  four  to  five  o'clock 
there  was*  an  emptying  of  the  anterooms  and  corri- 
dors adjoining  the  king's  apartments.  One  might 
have  fancied  that  the  dinner-hour  would  have  emp- 
tied them  entirely,  but  this  was  not  so.  A  number 
of  courtiers  always  clung  on  in  the  hope  of  a  glance 
or  word  from  the  king  as  he  passed  to  the  dining- 
room  or  the  private  apartments  of  Madame  du 
Barry. 

Nothing  is  more  extraordinary  than  this  obses- 
sion of  the  courtiers  of  the  kings  of  France  which 
caused  them  to  cling  to  the  presence  of  the  monarch 
as  bees  to  their  queen.  Marked  in  the  time  of  Louis 
XIII. ,  it  became  acute  in  the  reign  of  the  Grand 
Monarch,  and  still  more  so  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV. 
From  the  Duchesse  de  Gramont  to  the  Marchioness 
de  Mirepoix,  from  Monsieur  de  Choiseul  to  the 
Prince  de  Soubise,  there  was  not  one  of  these  people 
who  did  not  feel  half-stifled  when  condemned  to 
breathe  air  other  than  the  air  of  the  court. 

So,  though  it  was  past  the  dinner-hour,  Monsieur 
de  Maupeou  as  he  passed  up  the  Stairway  of  the 


THE   CAMPAIGN    OF    MADAME     339 

Ambassadors  encountered  several  of  his  acquaint- 
ances, and  more  in  the  Hall  of  Mirrors. 

But  it  was  not  to  the  king  that  Monsieur  de  Mau- 
peou  had  come  to  pay  his  court,  and  disregarding 
the  people  whom  he  met  and  who  made  attempts  to 
hold  him  in  talk,  he  turned  his  steps  toward  that 
wing  of  the  chateau  once  occupied  by  the  Princess 
Adelaide  and  now  occupied  by  Madame  du  Barry 
when  that  lady  was  not  in  residence  at  Luciennes. 


CHAPTER   II 

MADAME   DU    BARRY 

MADAME  DU  BARRY  on  this  especial  day 
was  in  a  bad  temper,  a  rare  condition  of 
mind  with  her  who,  capricious,  fanciful,  volatile, 
and  changeable  as  any  woman  could  be,  rarely  dis- 
played ill-humor. 

She  was  seated  now,  buried  in  cushions,  in  an  em- 
brasure of  one  of  the  windows  showing  the  trees  of 
the  park,  a  glimpse  of  the  fountains,  and  a  sky  of 
forget-me-not  blue  broken  by  pearl-white  clouds. 

Never  does  the  great  park  of  Versailles  look  more 
beautiful  than  under  the  afternoon  sun  of  a  sum- 
mer's day,  but  madame  had  no  eyes  for  its  beauty 
just  now,  nor  for  the  antics  of  Pistache,  her  little 
dog,  begging  to  be  taken  up  from  the  floor,  nor  for 
the  beauty  of  Combefere,  the  macaw,  blazing  with 
tropical  color  on  his  perch;  her  eyes  were  entirely 
taken  up  by  a  paper  which  she  held  in  her  hands. 
Other  papers  lay  on  the  cushions,  evidently  read  and 
cast  there  in  a  fit  of  impatience. 

340 


MADAME   DU    BARRY  341 

Madame  du  Barry  was  dressed  in  a  gown  of  blue 
Italian  silk,  stiff  almost  as  a  brocade,  clasped  at  the 
waist  with  diamonds,  and  showing  the  pearl-white 
of  her  throat  and  arms  to  perfection.  Her  hair  was 
dressed  after  her  own  fashion,  that  is  to  say  negli- 
gently ;  the  frisure  and  the  other  horrors  of  the  hair- 
dresser's art  had  been  condemned  by  her,  and  to  the 
terror  of  the  frumps  of  the  court  a  fashion  had  been 
introduced  disastrous  to  all  but  the  young  and  beau- 
tiful. Her  face  was  lovely,  one  of  those  faces  that 
surprise  as  much  as  they  delight  us,  because  they  are 
new. 

With  what  feelings  of  disgust  one  reads  the  de- 
scription of  her  by  the  infamous  Madame  Gourdan : 
"Her  waist  was  well  rounded;  her  face,  of  an  oval 
that  might  have  been  chiseled  by  a  sculptor ;  she  had 
large  deep-set  eyes  whose  subtle  glance  was  always 
delightful,  and  I  noticed  that  her  skin  was  of  mar- 
ble whiteness,  her  hands  and  feet  of  the  daintiest, 
and  her  hair  in  such  profusion  that  I  could  not  hold 
it  in  my  two  hands." 

And  yet  this  ogress  in  her  stereotyped  way  had 
found  something  of  the  countess's  nameless  charm 
in  those  "deep-set  eyes  whose  subtle  glance  was  al- 
ways delightful." 

Madame  du  Barry  raised  her  head  on  the  intro- 


342        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

duction  of  Monsieur  de  Maupeou,  and  presented  her 
hand  to  him  while  retaining  in  the  other  hand  the 
paper  which  she  had  been  reading. 

"Madame — chere  cousine"  murmured  the  first 
magistrate  of  France  as  he  bowed  over  the  hand  of 
the  comtesse,  "what  a  pleasure  it  is  to  find  you  to  de- 
light the  eye,  after  the  dust  of  the  law-courts,  the 
faces  one  sees.  My  compliments." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  lovely  creature 
among  the  cushions,  "how  strange  it  is  that  you 
should  bring  me  your  compliments,  when  all  day 
long  every  one  has  been  bringing  me  their  insults. 
Read  that." 

She  handed  him  the  paper  which  was  still  between 
her  fingers,  and  De  Maupeou,  taking  it,  read : 

"Pourquoi  ce  brillant  vis-a-vis  ? 
Est-ce  le  char  d'une  deesse 
Ou  de  quelque  jeune  Princesse?" 
S'ecriait  un  badaud  surpris. 

"Non,"  de  la  foule  curieuse, 
Lui  repond  un  caustique,  "non ; 
C'est  le  char  de  la  blanchisseuse 
De  cet  infame — d'Aiguillon." 

De  Maupeou  read  this  elegant  production  without 
moving  a  muscle  of  his  face. 

He  knew  the  history  of  the  magnificent  carriage 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  343 

which  the  Due  d'Aiguillon  had  presented  to  Ma- 
dame du  Barry ;  a  carriage  which  goes  down  through 
history  as  the  most  beautiful  ever  built,  costing  in 
its  construction  at  least  sixty  thousand  livres. 

He  had  good  cause  to  know  the  history  of  this 
carriage,  as  when  the  Due  d'Aiguillon  had  been  ac- 
cused of  oppressing  the  people  of  Brittany,  De  Mau- 
peou  it  was  who  had  moved  the  Comtesse  du  Barry 
to  induce  the  king  to  pardon  D'Aiguillon.  The  car- 
riage had  been  an  acknowledgment  of  this  act  and 
the  acknowledgment  had  brought  down  on  the  un- 
fortunate comtesse  a  shower  of  lampoons  and  bal- 
lades of  a  nature  to  drive  an  ordinary  woman  to  dis- 
traction. 

De  Sartines  could  have  easily  seized  these  ballad- 
mongers,  but  he  held  his  hand  simply  because  De 
Maupeou,  being  at  the  bottom  of  the  gift  of  the  car- 
riage, De  Sartines  was  determined  to  make  that  gift 
as  bitter  as  possible  to  Madame  du  Barry. 

It  is  necessary  to  the  progress  of  this  story,  and 
it  is  also  interesting,  to  expose  a  few  of  those  hid- 
den springs  and  wheels  (in  the  forms  of  motives 
and  acts)  which  made  up  the  every-day  story  of 
Versailles. 

"Madame,"  said  De  Maupeou,  "the  writer  of  this 
rubbish  is  to  be  pitied  for  his  poverty  of  pocket  and 


344        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

mind,  and  perhaps  pardoned  for  his  fault,  but  the 
man  who  allowed  this  to  be  written  has  committed 
an  unpardonable  act." 

"A'ie!"  cried  she,  the  vision  of  the  pretty  carriage 
in  whicrj  she  could  never  now  drive  trundling  off 
into  invisibility,  "if  I  but  had  him  I  would  show  him 
how  far  it  is  safe  to  insult  a  woman  with  spirit.  And 
look,  here  are  more,  the  same,  and  worse." 

"I  say  again,  Madame,  that  the  man  who  wrote 
these  things  is  only  the  pen;  it  is  the  man  who  al- 
lows them  to  be  circulated  who  deserves  punish- 
ment." 

"And  that  man?" 

"Oh,  Madame,  do  you  need  to  ask?  Who  pun- 
ished Rochas  for  his  pamphlet  against  the  mon- 
archy? Who  punished  Therrey  for  his  ballad  of 
Versailles?  Who—" 

"Ah,"  said  madame,  "you  mean  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines?" 

"Precisely." 

"But,  my  dear  friend,  Monsieur  de  Sartines  him- 
self told  me  that  though  the  things  were  printed  in 
Paris,  the  printers  had  escaped  to  Holland  and  were 
beyond  pursuit." 

"Oh,  did  he?    Well,  Madame,  I  must  ask  you  a 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  345 

question :  when  was  the  first  of  these  ballads  sent 
to  you?" 

"Ten  days  ago,  and  I  have  received  a  ballad  a  day 
since." 

"When  did  you  apply  to  Monsieur  de  Sartines?" 

"Five  days  ago." 

"So  that  five  ballads  have  been  printed  since,  and 
you  will  receive  another  to-morrow.  No,  Madame, 
the  printers  have  not  escaped  to  Holland,  nor  do 
they  wish  to  escape  there ;  they  are  quite  satisfied  to 
remain  in  Paris  under  the  protection  and  in  the  pay 
of  — "  He  paused  as  if  he  had  gone  further  than 
he  wished. 

"You  mean  to  say  Monsieur  de  Sartines  is  the  in- 
stigator of  these  villainies?" 

"I  mean  to  say  nothing,  Madame,"  replied  De 
Maupeou  coldly. 

"You  hint." 

"Madame,  I  only  give  you  food  for  reflection." 

"It  must  be.  The  things  have  been  published 
daily  since  I  spoke,  and  he  was  to  have  seen  me  to- 
day about  them,  and  he  has  not  called.  Ah,  De  Sar- 
tines, De  Sartines,  is  that  how  you  recompense  your 
friends!" 

De  Maupeou  smiled;  but  he  said  nothing  for  a 


346        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

moment,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  carved  mantel  em- 
blazoned with  the  Du  Barry  arms  and  the  motto: 
"Boutez  En  Avant." 

In  his  carriage,  which  contained  among  other 
things  materials  for  correspondence,  he  had  occu- 
pied himself  during  the  journey  to  Versailles  in  the 
preparation  of  a  document  which  he  now  drew  from 
his  pocket. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  "for  every  bane  there  is  an 
antidote,  and  strangely  enough,  for  the  drugs  of  the 
poisoner  who  persecutes  you  I  have  brought  the  an- 
tidote." He  handed  the  order  to  her  and  she  read : 

"For  our  vice-chancellor,  Monsieur  de  Maupeou, 
to  hold  this  day  an  inquiry  at  the  house  known  as 
No.  12,  Rue  Coq  Heron  into  the  conduct  of  certain 
persons  under  suspicion  as  enemies  to  the  state. 
Giving  the  said  Monsieur  de  Maupeou  full  power  to 
seize  all  documents  that  may  cast  light  on  the  con- 
duct of  the  persons  indicated,  with  power  to  arrest 
and  detain  for  further  examination  any  person  or 
persons  concerning  whom,  in  his  judgment,  the  evi- 
dence may  direct  itself. 

"Signed.  At  our  Palace  of  Versailles." 

"Ah,"  said  Madame  du  Barry  when  she  had  fin- 
ished reading,  "can  it  be  that  De  Sartines— 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  347 

De  Maupeou  cut  her  short  with  a  grimace.  In  the 
mirror  opposite  to  him  he  had  seen  a  curtain  pushed 
aside  and  the  form  of  a  gentleman  disclosing  itself 
at  the  doorway.  It  was  the  king,  who  had  entered 
unannounced. 

"Good  day,  Madame.  Good  day,  Monsieur  de 
Maupeou.  Well,  what  is  this  I  hear  about  Monsieur 
de  Sartines?" 

"Oh,  your  Majesty,"  replied  the  comtesse,  "it  is 
not  what  we  hear  about  Monsieur  de  Sartines  that 
troubles  me  but  rather  what  we  do  not  hear.  He 
was  to  have  called  upon  me  to-day  with  reference  to 
matters  like  this" — she  handed  the  verses  to  the 
king — "but  he  has  not  arrived.  He  is  too  busy,  no 
doubt,  with  the  arrest  of  pickpockets  and  other  high 
affairs  of  state  to  trouble  about  matters  like  these." 

The  king  read  the  verses  carefully  through,  for 
he  was  very  often  minute  in  affairs  of  that  sort,  and 
with  every  line  his  irritation  deepened.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  thing  itself  that  angered  him  as  the  whole 
situation.  The  Choiseuls,  the  Duchesse  de  Gra- 
mont,  the  thousand  and  one  bitter  enemies  of  the 
Du  Barry  all  were  conspiring  to  make  his  bed  of 
roses  a  bed  of  thorns;  the  ballad-mongers  were  help- 
ing as  far  as  they  could. 

He  flung  the  thing  on  the  floor  with  so  much  ill- 


348        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

temper  that  the  favorite  forgot  her  own  anger  and 
began  to  laugh. 

"Fortunately,  dear  France,  if  we  have  not  a  De 
Sartines  to  make  these  gentlemen  eat  their  own 
words,  we  have  a  De  Maupeou."  She  handed  the 
king  the  order  of  inquiry  which  De  Maupeou  had 
brought  her,  and  De  Maupeou,  who  knew  the  king 
better  than  she  did,  cursed  inwardly  as  he  watched 
him  reading  it,  knowing  that  in  his  present  temper 
his  majesty  was  impracticable. 

What  he  feared  happened. 

Having  read  the  paper,  Louis  handed  it  back  to 
De  Maupeou. 

"We  will  see,  Monsieur,  we  will  see.  But  at  pres- 
ent it  seems  to  me  there  is  nothing  to  be  done.  It  is 
the  men  who  pay  for  these  things  being  written 
rather  than  the  men  who  write  them  that  we  should 
give  our  attention  to." 

"But,  your  Majesty,"  said  De  Maupeou,  "it  is  not 
against  the  versifiers  that  this  paper  is  directed, 
though  indeed  it  includes  them  in  its  net,  but  a  seri- 
ous conspiracy  against  the  welfare  of  the  state." 

His  majesty  imagined,  from  finding  De  Maupeou 
and  Madame  du  Barry  together,  that  this  serious 
conspiracy  to  which  the  vice-chancellor  alluded  had 
to  do  with  the  tormentors  of  the  favorite.  De  Mau- 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  349 

peou  would  strike  them,  no  doubt,  and  they  would 
strike  back.  He  did  not  mind  De  Maupeou  striking 
them,  but  he  objected  to  their  striking  back  and  all 
the  fuss  and  fury  of  a  prosecution  ably  defended. 
He  loved  peace,  not  for  its  sake  but  for  his  own 
sake. 

"Well,  we  will  see.  Come  to  me  to-morrow  and 
we  will  talk  the  matter  over.  I  am  ennuye."  He 
approached  the  macaw  and  examined  it  with  serious 
attention,  while  De  Maupeou,  furious,  with  all  his 
plans  paralyzed  if  not  shattered,  prepared  to  go. 
But  Madame  du  Barry  held  him  with  a  glance. 

"Your  Majesty  remembers  that  I  have  a  little  din- 
ner-party to-day  and  a  little  surprise  for  my  guests 
in  the  form  of  a  certain  pie." 

"Ah,  the  pie!"  said  the  king,  laughing  and  turn- 
ing from  the  bird.  "Yes,  I  remember  now  the  pie." 

"Well,  your  Majesty,  since  Monsieur  de  Maupeou 
is  here  and  since  Monsieur  de  Maupeou  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  law,  I  would  ask  him  to  be  present 
at  the  inauguration  of  my  pie,  since  Monsieur  de 
Sartines,  the  representative  of  order,  is  absent." 

The  king  glanced  at  the  severe  and  serious  face  of 
Monsieur  de  Maupeou  and  burst  out  laughing. 

"Ma  foil"  cried  he,  "an  excellent  idea.  My  dear 
De  Maupeou,  you  must  dine  with  us  to-day." 


350        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"Your  wish  is  my  command,  Sire,"  replied  De 
Maupeou,  vaguely  uneasy  at  the  hinted  mystery  of 
this  pie  and  the  manner  of  the  king,  but  glad,  all  the 
same,  of  another  chance  to  push  his  request.  "But, 
if  I  may  make  so  bold  to  say  so,  at  the  inauguration 
of  a  novel  form  of  cookery  a  representative  of  the 
law  seems  to  me  less  called  for  than  a  representative 
of  medicine  in  the  form  of  your  Majesty's  phy- 
sician." 

"Make  your  mind  easy,  dear  Monsieur  de  Mau- 
peou," said  the  comtesse,  "my  pie  will  give  indiges- 
tion to  no  one ;  no  one  will  swallow  it,  yet  it  is  com- 
pounded of  one  thing  that,  according  to  the  sages, 
makes  men  fat." 

"And  what  is  that,  Madame?"  asked  the  vice- 
chancellor. 

"Laughter,"  she  replied. 

Almost  as  she  uttered  the  word  the  door  by  which 
the  king  had  entered  opened  and  a  servant  an- 
nounced :  "Madame  la  Comtesse  d'Egmont." 

The  daughter  of  Richelieu  belonged  to  the  skirts 
of  the  De  Choiseul  party,  that  is  to  say  she  hated 
Madame  du  Barry  as  bitterly  as  any  one  of  them, 
yet  was  anxious  to  please  the  king  on  her  father's 
account.  Hence  her  presence  to-day. 

She  had  scarcely  made  her  compliments  to  the 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  351 

king  and  the  comtesse  when  the  servant's  voice  an- 
nounced :  "Monsieur  1'Abbe  Fremont." 

And  before  the  cleric  had  fully  paid  his  homage, 
entered  the  Comtesse  de  Coigny,  charming,  youth- 
ful and  full  of  grace,  followed  by  the  Due  d'Aiguil- 
Ion,  the  Comte  de  Coigny,  and  Chon  du  Barry,  ex- 
quisite in  a  robe  of  au  bord  de  riviere  green  clasped 
by  a  great  brooch  of  emeralds  at  the  waist. 

They  had  all  been  herded  chattering  in  the  ante- 
room till  the  last  moment  possible,  and  now  as  they 
stood  talking,  the  king,  the  Due  d'Aiguillon,  the 
Comtesse  d'Egmont,  and  the  Comtesse  de  Coigny 
forming  one  group;  the  Abbe  Fremont,  the  Com- 
tesse du  Barry  and  the  Comte  de  Coigny  forming 
another,  while  Chon  contented  herself  with  teasing 
Combefere.  As  they  were  talking  thus  the  door 
suddenly  opened  and  like  a  thunderclap  to  De  Mau- 
peou,  the  servant  announced :  "Monsieur  le  Comte 
de  Sartines." 

This  arrival  of  Monsieur  de  Sartines  deserves  a 
word:  When  he  had  left  the  Due  de  Richelieu's 
house,  having  given  his  grace  the  order  of  secret  ad- 
mittance to  the  Bastile,  he  returned  to  the  Hotel  de 
Sartines  very  much  perturbed  in  his  mind.  He  was 
used  to  enemies,  he  was  used  to  traps,  he  was  used 
even  to  attempts  on  his  life;  but  in  all  his  experi- 


352        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

ence  he  had  never  found  himself  in  a  position  half 
so  grave  as  the  present.  He  could  imprison  the 
woman  who  held  him  in  her  grip,  but  were  he  to  do 
so  her  infernal  ingenuity  would  hit  him  no  less  sure- 
ly ;  De  Maupeou  would  receive  the  weapon  from  the 
hands  of  the  unknown  who  held  it,  and  as  surely  as 
death  is  the  portion  of  man  De  Maupeou  would 
use  it. 

He  sat  for  a  while  deep  in  thought.  He  could  see 
no  possible  outlet  from  the  trap  that  surrounded 
him.  Suddenly  he  struck  himself  on  the  forehead. 
The  king!  That  was  his  only  chance.  He  would 
lay  the  whole  matter  before  the  king  and  attack  De 
Maupeou  before  De  Maupeou  could  attack  him. 

He  knew  the  king  so  well,  that  shuffler  and  evader 
and  double-dealer.  He  knew  that  if  De  Maupeou 
were  to  lay  a  formal  charge  backed  by  that  atrocious 
paper,  the  king  would  hush  the  matter  up  for  his 
own  sake,  and  that  the  hush-money  he  would  pay 
De  Maupeou  would  be  his — De  Sartines' — disgrace 
and  exile.  It  was  imperative  to  frighten  the  king, 
to  poison  his  mind  against  De  Maupeou — nay,  even 
to  lie  to  the  king,  accuse  De  Maupeou  and  Madame 
Linden  of  having  stolen  the  paper  from  De  Riche- 
lieu. Nay,  even  better  than  that,  of  having  con- 
cocted the  thing  and  forged  his — De  Sartines' — sig- 


MADAME    DU    BARRY  353 

nature  to  it.  The  king  would  know  this  to  be  a  lie ; 
that  did  not  matter  in  the  least.  Before  the  danger 
of  having  his  own  name  implicated  the  lying  king 
would  back  his  lying  lieutenant-general  of  police. 

The  king  would  sacrifice  De  Maupeou  just  as 
readily  as  De  Sartines.  It  all  depended  on  which  of 
the  two  got  his  ear  first  and  frightened  him  against 
the  other. 

He  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  was  now  half  past 
three.  Driving  swiftly  he  could  reach  Versailles  at 
five ;  that  would  be  the  king's  dinner-hour  and  a  bad 
time  for  an  interview;  still,  the  case  was  desperate 
and  he  could  not  delay,  as  it  was  imperative  for  him 
to  return  to  Paris  and  reach  Madame  Linden's 
house  at  eight.  He  rang  for  his  horses  and  in  ten 
minutes  was  on  the  road. 

When  he  arrived  at  Versailles  he  was  received 
with  the  news  that  the  king  was  dining  with  Ma- 
dame du  Barry.  Du  Barry!  In  an  instant  he  re- 
membered— what  he  had  up  to  this  forgotten — that 
he  had  promised  to  call  that  day  on  the  comtesse 
with  regard  to  the  ballad-mongers!  He  had  prom- 
ised to  call  at  noon,  and  he  had  failed  to  keep  his  ap- 
pointment. Madame  Linden  had  driven  it  out  of 
his  mind. 

Again  in  this  duel  with  the  Austrian  woman  she 


354       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

had  scored;  just  by  the  power  of  obsessing  his 
thoughts  she  had  caused  him  to  make  this  slip.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  balked  and  furious,  though  out- 
wardly quite  calm.  Then,  passing  up  the  great  stair- 
case, he  made  for  the  apartments  of  the  favorite. 

The  antechamber,  crowded  all  the  morning,  was 
now  empty  of  everything  but  the  Chinese  jars  and 
mandarins,  the  hundred  and  one  nicknacks  that 
made  the  place  a  curiosity-shop,  the  palms  in  pots, 
the  cage  of  marmosets  and  a  huge  lackey  on  duty. 

"Has  dinner  been  served  ?"  asked  De  Sartines  of 
the  latter. 

"Not  yet,  Monsieur." 

"Announce  me." 

The  servant  cast  the  door  wide  open  and  De  Sar- 
tines found  himself  fronting  the  assembled  guests. 

He  saw  the  king,  he  saw  Madame  du  Barry,  the 
Comtesse  de  Coigny,  the  Comtesse  d'Egmont;  the 
Due  d'Aiguillon,  the  Abbe  Fremont. 

All  these  he  saw  as  one  sees  the  lesser  characters 
in  a  play,  indifferent  figures  beside  the  figure  of  De 
Maupeou  in  the  circle  surrounding  the  king. 

De  Maupeou  was  first. 

De  Sartines  stood  for  half  a  moment  as  though 
he  had  seen  death. 


CHAPTER   III 

A    PIE    AND   A    SURPRISE 

ONLY  for  half  a  moment. 
In  the  next  he  was  bowing  to  his  majesty,  and 
the  comtesse,  who  had  turned  and  was  contemplat- 
ing him  with  an  expression  curiously  difficult  to  an- 
alyze. Was  it  derision,  was  it  mirth,  was  she  angry 
with  him,  or  had  she  forgotten  the  broken  appoint- 
ment? The  reader  of  faces,  the  most  astute  physi- 
ognomist for  whom  the  human  face,  as  a  rule,  was 
but  a  veil  of  gauze  could  read  nothing  for  certain  in 
that  beautiful  face,  so  capricious,  so  strangely  un- 
marked by  destiny. 

"Why,  here  is  order,"  cried  the  comtesse,  "come 
upon  the  heels  of  law  and  the  church !  My  party  13 
complete.  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  you  must  dine  with 
us  to-day." 

"Madame,  I  shall  be  charmed.  Would  that  I 
could  have  arrived  earlier  but — " 

"I  know,"  she  cut  in,  "you  had  your  literary  af- 
355 


356       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

fairs  to  attend  to.  No  matter,  dear  poet,  no  matter 
how  late,  you  are  always  welcome." 

Dear  poet!  So  she  had  not  forgotten;  not  only 
that,  but  the  words  and  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  spoken  told  him  that  she  knew  of  his  indiffer- 
ence to  the  doings  of  the  ballad  writers,  and  he  saw 
in  a  flash  that  De  Maupeou  had  been  before  him  not 
only  with  the  king  but  with  the  favorite. 

"Madame,"  said  he,  taking  advantage  of  the  fact 
that  the  others  had  drawn  slightly  away,  "of  those 
scribblers  about  whom  you  were  speaking  to  me :  I 
hope  that  the  chief  of  them — the  only  one  who  has 
not  escaped  from  France — I  say  I  hope  that  the 
chief  of  them  will  be  safely  in  prison  by  to-night." 

"Oh,  Monsieur,"  replied  she,  "I  hope  that  will  not 
happen.  I  do  not  wish  on  account  of  my  petty  af- 
fairs that  France  should  lose  so  excellent  a  minister 
of  police  as  Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

She  turned  away,  leaving  this  dagger  quivering  in 
his  heart,  and  even  as  she  turned  dinner  was  an- 
nounced and  the  guests  passed  into  the  dining-room, 
the  unfortunate  De  Sartines  bringing  up  the  rear, 
stricken,  speechless,  yet  showing  nothing  of  his  dis- 
comfiture in  his  face. 

The  dining-room  which  they  entered  was  very 
different  from  that  which  had  once  been  the  dining- 


A    PIE   AND   A    SURPRISE          357 

room  of  the  Princess  Adelaide.  The  walls  only 
were  the  same;  upholstered  in  crimson,  with  over- 
doors  by  Drouais,  a  Cupid-haunted  ceiling  from  the 
brush  of  Boucher,  and  panel  pictures  daring  in  both 
color  and  theme  by  Vien,  the  place  looked  exactly 
what  it  was :  the  home  of  color  that  paints  the  hu- 
man face,  impudence  that  scents  itself  with  pat- 
chouli. 

There  were  nine  covers  laid  and,  counting  De 
Sartines,  ten  guests. 

When  all  were  seated,  De  Sartines  was  left  stand- 
ing. 

"Oh,  ma  foil"  cried  the  comtesse,  as  the  servants 
hurried  to  lay  a  fresh  cover,  "I  had  forgotten  Mon- 
sieur de  Sartines.  Lubin,  place  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines' chair  by  the  chair  of  Monsieur  1'Abbe,  on  the 
left  so  that  the  light  will  not  try  his  eyes.  I  know 
you  have  a  horror  of  a  strong  light,  dear  Monsieur 
de  Sartines." 

Monsieur  de  Sartines  bowed  as  he  slipped  into  his 
seat;  he  had  a  poisonous  retort  on  his  lips  but  he 
dared  not  utter  it. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  said  the  king,  who  had 
commenced  his  soup,  "what  is  this  I  hear  the  com- 
tesse saying  about  your  eyes  ?" 

"Only  that  I  am  half  blinded,  Sire." 


358        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Since  when?" 

"Always,  your  Majesty,  when  I  find  myself  in  the 
presence  of  superlative  beauty." 

He  bowed  to  the  comtesse,  who  returned  the  bow 
mockingly  and  turned  her  attention  to  the  Due 
d'Aiguillon;  she  was  evidently  still  unappeased  and 
beyond  the  reach  of  blandishment. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  said  the  king,  finishing 
his  soup  and  raising  a  glass  of  topaz-colored  wine  to 
his  lips,  "it  seems  to  me  there  are  only  two  men  in 
my  kingdom  who  have  portfolios  and  yet  have  the 
old  wit  that  bites  in  epigrams  and  charms  in  com- 
pliment." 

"And  those  two  men,  Sire?" 

"They  are  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Choiseul  and  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte  de  Sartines." 

"O  Sire!"  cried  the  minister  of  police,  picking 
up  his  spirits,  "what  you  say  is  false." 

"False!" 

"There  is  a  third  man  who  is,  yet,  not  a  man,  be- 
side whom  Monsieur  de  Choiseul  and  Monsieur  de 
Sartines  are  blunderers  at  that  game." 

"And  who  is  this  man  who  is  not  a  man,  pray  ?" 

"A  king,  Sire." 

"Ma  foil"  cried  his  majesty,  laughing,  "it  seems 


A    PIE    AND    A    SURPRISE          359 

to  me,  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  you  pay  that  king  a 
doubtful  compliment." 

"O  Sire,"  laughed  De  Sartines,  amazed  at  him- 
self and  hating  himself  for  having  made  this  faux 
pas,  the  only  one  in  all  his  life,  "since  when  is  a  king 
a  man,  since  he  belongs  to  the  company  of  those 
above  us?" 

De  Maupeou,  who  had  been  sitting  mumchance 
up  to  this,  cast  his  eyes  up  to  the  ceiling  and  laughed. 
De  Sartines,  the  king,  and  all  within  the  range  of 
the  conversation  looked  up,  only  to  see  the  fat  cupids 
of  Boucher  leering  at  them  from  the  ceiling. 

"Um,"  said  the  king.  He  turned  to  the  Abbe 
Fremont  with  some  inquiry  as  to  the  state  of  affairs 
in  Picardy,  from  which  province  the  ecclesiastic 
hailed,  while  the  Comtesse  d'Egmont,  unable  to  con- 
tain herself,  laughed  frankly  at  the  face  of  De  Sar- 
tines, who,  paralyzed  by  his  ill  luck,  would  have 
given  his  portfolio  for  the  fall  of  the  ceiling,  cupids 
and  all,  on  the  head  of  De  Maupeou. 

It  was  decidedly  one  of  his  unlucky  days;  a  mo- 
ment ago  the  king  had  been  charming,  and  now  he 
was  out  of  temper. 

The  minister  of  police  applied  himself  to  the  trout 
a  la  Mayenne  which  was  before  him. 


360       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

He  felt  himself  isolated  by  his  majesty's  displeas- 
use,  as  indeed  he  was.  The  Comtesse  de  Coigny, 
to  whom  he  addressed  his  next  remark,  replied  in 
monosyllables  and  the  Abbe  Fremont  was  entirely 
engaged  with  his  fish,  while  De  Maupeou,  as  if 
drawing  life  from  the  position  of  his  enemy,  became 
less  like  parchment  and  almost  brilliant  in  his  con- 
versation. 

To  be  frank,  some  of  the  conversation  was  a 
shade  too  daring  for  reproduction  in  print.  That 
frigid  etiquette  which  at  the  table  of  the  Grand  Mon- 
arch imposed  silence  on  all  the  guests  till  the  king 
should  speak  and  condemned  them  to  eat  only  when 
his  majesty  set  the  example,  was  entirely  absent 
from  this  dinner-table,  where  with  the  first  glass  of 
champagne  wit  took  the  dullness  of  license  and  mod- 
esty the  wings  of  wit. 

The  last  course  was  about  to  appear  when  a  pause 
came  in  the  service,  which  had  hitherto  been  con- 
ducted with  the  precision  and  ease  of  a  perfect 
mechanism.  One  might  have  thought  that  some 
frightful  culinary  accident  had  occurred  but  for  the 
faces  of  the  servants,  perfectly  unmoved,  and  the 
fact  that  they  drew  away  from  their  positions  be- 
hind the  chairs  of  the  guests  and  ranged  themselves 
along  the  walls  of  the  room. 


A    PIE    AND    A    SURPRISE          361 

Scarcely  had  they  done  so  when  the  blast  of  a 
trumpet  sounded  from  the  outside,  the  door  flew 
open  and  a  figure  entered,  black  as  ebony,  four  feet 
in  height,  dressed  in  crimson  brocade  and  having  a 
wand  in  its  hand.  It  was  Zamore,  governor  of  Lu- 
ciennes. 

Behind  the  little  negro  in  his  absurd  dress  came  a 
servant  bearing  an  enormous  pie. 

Madame  du  Barry  clapped  her  hands,  the  guests 
followed  suit,  and  the  king  looked  amused. 

"Ah,  the  pie!"  said  his  majesty.  "Monsieur  de 
Maupeou,  you  have  not  forgotten  the  pie  which  the 
comtesse  promised  us  ?" 

"No,  Sire,"  replied  the  vice-chancellor  in  a 
sprightly  voice,  "nor  the  promise  of  Madame  la 
Comtesse  as  to  its  contents." 

"Then,  Monsieur,"  said  the  favorite,  "in  reward 
for  your  remembrance  you  shall  have  the  honor  of 
cutting  it.  Zamore,  place  the  pie  before  Monsieur 
de  Maupeou." 

The  vice-chancellor  of  France,  laughing  as  though 
at  a  secret  known  only  to  himself,  the  king,  and  Ma- 
dame du  Barry,  stood  up  to  the  business. 

"Place  the  knife  beneath  the  edge  of  the  crust, 
and  raise  the  crust  in  one  piece,"  commanded  the 
comtesse. 


362        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

The  vice-chancellor,  knife  in  hand,  bowed  to  his 
hostess,  the  crust  tumbled  off  like  a  lid  and  out 
burst  a  whirling  swarm  of  cockchafers. 

The  women  shrieked  and  sprang  from  the  table, 
a  cockchafer  hit  De  Sartines  in  the  eye,  half  blinding 
him  in  reality  for  a  moment.  The  king,  lolling  back 
in  his  chair,  the  picture  of  a  fool,  laughed  till  he  had 
to  hold  his  sides,  while  Zamore,  mad  with  excite- 
ment, chased  the  insects  hither  and  thither,  heedless 
where  he  went  and  checked  by  nothing,  not  even 
the  skirts  of  the  women. 

But  the  hero  of  the  day  was  De  Maupeou.  The 
insects  rewarded  their  deliverer  by  swarming  on  his 
great  wig  till  he  presented  such  an  extraordinary 
spectacle  that  even  Zamore  forgot  the  chase  and 
clapped  his  hands. 

The  vice-chancellor,  delightfully  solemn  under 
the  buzzing  swarm,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  wig, 
seized  one  of  the  insects,  glanced  at  it,  and  let  it 
escape. 

"Mordieu!"  said  he.  "For  the  moment  I  thought  I 
was  beset  by  philosophers!"  He  advanced  to  a  win- 
dow that  had  been  flung  open,  took  off  his  wig,  and 
beat  the  creatures  from  it.  The  servants  and  the 
guests,  armed  with  napkins,  attacked  the  remainder, 
and  in  a  minute  not  a  cockchafer  remained. 


A   PIE   AND   A   SURPRISE         363 

De  Sartines  looked  at  his  watch  and  then  at  the! 
flaccid  face  of  the  king.  He  saw  the  utter  hopeless- 
ness of  any  attempt  at  serious  business  with  him; 
he  knew  that  De  Maupeou  had  the  Du  Barry  on  his 
side  and  would  succeed  in  whatever  scheme  he  had 
on  foot.  He  had  one  move  left,  and  to  execute  it 
he  must  depart  at  once. 

"Your  Majesty  will  excuse  me,"  said  he,  "but  I 
am  torn  away  by  most  important  business." 

"Monsieur,  you  are  excused,"  replied  his  majesty, 
"and  tell  Monsieur  Rousseau — ha!  ha! — tell  Mon- 
sieur Rousseau  of  the  conduct  of  his  disciples,  and 
of  Monsieur  de  Maupeou's  remark." 

De  Sartines  bowed  to  Madame  du  Barry,  who 
scarcely  listened  to  his  excuses,  then  he  left  the 
room.  When  he  reached  the  hall  of  entry,  instead 
of  leaving  the  palace,  he  passed  to  a  little  room 
where,  touching  a  bell,  he  ordered  the  servant  who 
answered  it  to  call  Monsieur  Rappelier.  De  Sar- 
tines had  not  only  the  policing  of  Paris  on  his 
hands,  but  that  of  the  palace  of  Versailles,  which 
he  declared  sometimes,  with  a  grim  smile,  to  be  a 
much  more  difficult  business  than  the  policing  of  the 
city.  The  thousands  of  servants,  male  and  female, 
of  Versailles,  the  Trianon  and  Luciennes  were  for 
ever  under  the  eyes  of  the  forty-five  or  fifty  watch- 


364       THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

dogs  of  De  Sartines,  who  had  also  to  keep  a  discreet 
eye  on  the  thousands  of  guests  and  courtiers,  the 
ambassadors  and  their  suites,  the  couriers  who  were 
always  going  and  coming  from  and  to  the  four  quar- 
ters of  Europe,  and  the  tradesmen  who  were  always 
ready  to  fleece  his  majesty  with  false  weight  and 
corrupt  the  servants  with  bribes. 

In  answer  to  the  summons  of  the  servant,  Rap- 
pelier,  the  chief  of  the  agents  of  safety,  made  his 
appearance. 

Rappelier  had  a  sinister  cast  of  countenance,  a 
narrow  and  dark  face,  a  finger  wanting  from  the  left 
hand  and  a  scar  on  his  cheek,  which  scar,  by  alter- 
ation of  color,  gave  an  index  to  his  emotions  when 
they  were  deeply  stirred.  His  face  never  altered. 

"Rappelier,"  said  De  Sartines,  "Monsieur  the 
Vice-Chancellor  de  Maupeou  is  in  the  palace;  he  is 
dining  with  his  majesty." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"He  will  leave  for  Paris  very  shortly." 

"Yes,  Monsieur." 

"He  must  not  get  there." 

Rappelier  looked  puzzled. 

"He  must  not  get  there  till  late  this  evening — say 
ten." 

"I  see,  Monsieur." 


A   PIE   AND   A   SURPRISE          365 

"You  must  use  extra  diligence  and  act  at  once, 
you  understand." 

"I  understand,  Monsieur.  Your  orders  shall  be 
obeyed." 

De  Sartines  knew  his  man,  his  genius  and  the 
tremendous  powers  and  means  at  his  disposal.  Feel- 
ing assured  that  De  Maupeou's  journey  to  Paris 
was  now  blocked  as  effectively  as  though  a  granite 
wall  had  been  built  across  his  path,  he  left  the  agent 
and  returned  to  the  hall  of  entrance. 

As  he  prepared  to  get  into  his  carriage  he  looked 
at  his  watch.  It  pointed  to  twenty-five  minutes  to 
seven;  then,  telling  the  coachman  to  take  him  to 
Number  12,  Rue  Coq  Heron,  he  entered  the  car- 
riage and  it  drove  away. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A  BOTTLE  AND  A  BRIDE 

DE  SARTINES  had  scarcely  left  the  room  and 
the  guests,  still  convulsed  with  mirth,  retaken 
their  places  at  the  table  when  the  comtesse,  who  had 
run  for  a  moment  into  the  adjoining  chamber,  re- 
turned with  a  pen  in  her  hand. 

"The  paper,"  said  she  as  she  passed  De  Mau- 
peou's  chair. 

Swift  as  light  he  plunged  his  hand  into  his  pocket 
and  presented  it  to  her. 

"Dear  France,"  said  she,  laying  the  paper  on  the 
table  before  his  majesty,  "here  is  the  bill  for  the 
cockchafers  of  Monsieur  de  Maupeou.  Receipt  it, 
I  pray  you." 

"The  cockchafers?"  said  the  king,  casting  a  leaden 
eye  on  the  document. 

"That  pursued  him  and  which  he  is  now  about  to 
pursue." 

"Aha !"  said  the  king.    "I  remember." 

"Sign." 

366 


A    BOTTLE   AND    A    BRIDE         367 

"I  will  consider  of  it." 

"The  ink  is  drying  on  the  pen.  Sign,  for  if  I  have 
to  go  for  another  supply  of  ink  I  shall  be  cross  all 
the  evening." 

The  king,  tired  with  laughter  and  lazy  with  wine, 
re-read  the  document.  He  felt  sure  it  was  directed 
against  the  De  Choiseuls  and  that  he  would  have 
worry  over  it,  and  that  if  he  didn't  sign  he  would 
have  worry  with  the  comtesse. 

His  mind  wobbled  between  the  choice  of  worry  in 
the  future  and  worry  in  the  present.  The  amuse- 
ment De  Maupeou  had  given  him  and  the  natural 
bent  of  his  character  made  him  choose  the  former. 
He  signed. 

The  comtesse  ran  back  into  the  next  room  and 
sanded  the  paper;  then  she  returned  and,  folding  it, 
handed  it  to  De  Maupeou. 

De  Maupeou,  bowing  profoundly,  placed  it  in  his 
pocket,  then  he  looked  at  his  watch;  it  pointed  to 
twenty-four  minutes  to  seven.  He  had  arranged  in 
his  own  mind  to  arrive  at  Madame  Linden's  house 
in  the  Rue  Coq  Heron  at  half  past  eight.  By  that 
time  her  plans,  whatever  they  were,  would  have 
fructified,  and  by  that  time  all  the  fish  would  be  in 
the  net.  So  he  dallied  a  little  longer  in  the  sun  of 


368        THE   MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

royalty,  till  the  king,  with  whom  much  laughter  did 
not  agree,  made  a  move  from  the  table. 

An  attack  of  indigestion  was  impending,  and  De 
Maupeou,  having  got  all  he  wanted,  made  his 
adieus. 

He  came  down  the  Stairway  of  the  Ambassadors 
smiling.  De  Maupeou  was  terrible  when  he  smiled, 
for  then  his  face,  severe  and  gloomy,  became 
touched  by  the  ferocity  we  see  in  the  old  Japanese 
masks.  He  called  for  his  carriage. 

The  carriages  that  set  down  guests  at  the  great 
door  of  the  palace  waited  in  the  courtyard  were  the 
visit  of  short  duration;  if  of  long,  the  horses  would 
be  taken  round  to  the  stable-yards.  De  Maupeou 
had  ordered  his  horses  to  be  taken  to  the  stable  so 
that  they  might  be  fed  and  watered  for  the  return 
journey,  and  as  he  stood  now  and  waited  for  them, 
the  chief  of  the  palace-police,  Monsieur  Rappelier, 
approached  and  fell  into  conversation  with  him. 

The  chief  of  the  law  and  the  chief  of  the  palace- 
police  were  known  one  to  the  other,  just  as  the  lord 
chief  justice  of  England  might  be  known  to  the 
chief  guardian  of  Windsor. 

They  chatted  for  a  few  minutes  on  indifferent 
subjects,  then  De  Maupeou  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
pointed  to  fifteen  minutes  to  seven. 


A    BOTTLE   AND    A    BRIDE         369 

"Monsieur  is  waiting  for  his  carriage?"  asked 
Rappelier. 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  De  Maupeou,  "and  I  wish 
they  would  hurry  with  it,  as  I  have  to  be  in  Paris  by 
half  past  eight." 

"Oh,  then  monsieur  has  still  time ;  it  wants  twenty 
minutes  to  seven." 

"Pardon  me,  fourteen  minutes,"  replied  De  Mau- 
peou, pulling  out  his  watch  and  looking  at  it  again. 

Even  as  he  did  so  an  usher  approached 

"Monsieur's  carriage  is  at  the  steps." 

De  Maupeou,  saying  good-by  to  Rappelier,  turned 
and,  led  by  the  usher,  passed  to  the  entrance  where, 
surely  enough,  his  carriage  was  standing  in  waiting. 

Like  De  Sartines,  he  glanced  at  his  watch  before 
placing  his  foot  on  the  step,  and  like  De  Sartines,  he 
gave  the  address  of  Number  12,  Rue  Coq  Heron  to 
the  driver. 

The  coach  drove  away,  exchanged  the  rattle  of 
the  paving-stones  in  the  courtyard  for  the  even  mo- 
tion of  the  wheels  upon  the  well-kept  outer  way, 
and,  entering  the  Paris  road,  headed  for  the  city  at 
a  spanking  pace. 

De  Maupeou  took  from  his  pocket  the  paper  he 
had  just  received  from  the  king  and  glanced  at  it. 

A  few  minutes  ago  the  thing  had  been  worthless ; 


370        THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

now,  with  that  sprawling  signature  attached,  it  was 
priceless — for  the  purposes  of  De  Maupeou. 

He  refolded  it,  put  it  back  in  his  pocket  and 
folded  his  hands. 

That  De  Sartines  had  committed  some  frightful 
indiscretion  or  crime  he  felt  sure;  equally  sure  was 
he  that  the  baroness  had  the  evidence  of  it.  He 
licked  his  lips  at  the  thought  of  the  paper  in  his 
pocket  that  gave  him  absolute  power  over  both  De 
Sartines  and  the  woman,  should  evidence  be  forth- 
coming that  either  of  them  was  implicated,  and  was 
on  the  point  of  looking  at  his  watch  again  when  the 
coach  lurched,  recovered,  seemed  to  shake  itself, 
and  then  turned  over  on  its  side  with  a  crash. 

To  the  occupant  it  was  as  though  the  world  had 
suddenly  upset.  Half  stunned,  bleeding  from  a  cut 
on  his  left  hand,  imprisoned  like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  he 
could  only  shout  for  help,  while  the  horses,  with  the 
pole  broken  and  lying  on  their  sides,  engaged  the 
attention  of  the  driver,  who  freed  them  by  cutting 
the  traces  and  then,  rushing  to  the  carriage  door, 
freed  his  master. 

"Mordieu!"  cried  the  vice-chancellor,  as  he  stood 
at  last  on  the  road.  "What  an  escape!  But  what 
caused  it  ?  I  have  driven  all  my  life,  but  never  have 


A   BOTTLE   AND   A   BRIDE         371 

I  experienced  an  upset  like  this.    Did  you  run  into 
anything?" 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  man,  rising  from  an  exam- 
ination of  the  wreck,  "the  linch-pins  have  been  tam- 
pered with,  and  the  miracle  to  me  is  that  we  have 
driven  so  far  without  a  breakdown." 

"How  far  are  we  from  Versailles?" 

"A  mile  and  a  half,  Monsieur." 

De  Maupeou  looked  at  his  watch.  It  had  stopped. 
There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen  on  the  road.  It  was 
a  beautiful  evening,  and  not  a  cloud  stained  the  sky 
that  stretched  in  a  bow  of  azure  from  the  spires  and 
domes  of  the  town  and  palace  of  Versailles  to  the 
domes  and  spires  of  Paris. 

A  lark  was  singing  above,  and  the  faint  warm 
wind  of  spring  brought  the  scent  of  earth  and  flow- 
ers to  the  distracted  vice-chancellor.  Nature  seemed 
mocking  him. 

Having  glanced  up  and  down  the  road  in  search 
of  help,  he  fixed  his  attention  on  the  coachman,  who 
had  got  one  of  the  horses  upon  its  legs;  the  other, 
severely  injured  and  unable  to  rise,  would  have  to 
be  shot. 

"Linch-pins!"  said  De  Maupeou.  "Then  the 
wheels  have  been  tampered  with?" 


372        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Yes,  Monsieur ;  that  I'd  swear.  Both  off- wheels. 
Ah !  the  scamps !  If  I  had  hold  of  them !" 

"Cordieu!"  said  the  vice-chancellor,  bending 
down  to  examine  the  wreck. 

The  thought  had  come  to  him  that  this  was  the 
work  of  De  Sartines,  done  on  purpose  to  delay  him. 
If  this  were  so,  there  was  all  the  more  reason  for 
haste,  as  the  affair  must  be  of  the  last  importance, 
else  the  minister  of  police  would  not  have  stooped  to 
such  a  means. 

"Cordieu!"  cried  he.  "I  must  be  in  Paris  by  half 
past  eight.  My  watch  is  stopped.  If  I  only  knew 
the  time !  Stay ;  what  is  that  ?" 

A  puff  of  dust  from  the  road  as  it  entered  Ver- 
sailles rose  on  the  wind ;  a  vehicle  of  some  sort  was 
approaching.  As  it  drew  nearer  it  proved  to  be  a 
yellow  cabriolet  of  the  type  that  plied  for  hire  in 
Paris  and  Versailles.  The  horse  in  the  shafts  was 
going  at  a  good  pace,  and  now  De  Maupeou  could 
hear  the  little  bells  of  the  harness. 

"Fool!"  said  he,  thinking  of  De  Sartines.  "Un- 
less he  meant  to  kill  me  outright,  he  must  have 
known  that  a  vehicle  passes  along  the  Paris  road 
every  few  minutes  and  that  the  vice-chancellor  of 
France,  with  money  in  his  pocket,  could  not  possibly 


A    BOTTLE   AND   A    BRIDE         373 

be  detained  long  by  such  a  simple  and  silly  trick. 
Fool!" 

He  used  the  word  again,  mentally,  as  he  hailed 
the  cabriolet,  which  stopped.  He  did  not  know  in 
the  least,  however,  that  the  genius  of  the  piece  in 
which  he  was  now  acting  was  not  De  Sartines  but 
Rappelier,  a  much  more  formidable  antagonist  and 
a  person,  moreover,  who  thought  out  a  plan  to  the 
minutest  detail. 

In  the  cabriolet  was  seated  a  gentleman  with  a 
singularly  open  and  good-humored  face,  who  was 
being  driven  to  Paris. 

"Why,  mon  Dieu!"  cried  this  gentleman,  as  his 
vehicle  stopped,  ''here  we  have  an  accident,  it 
seems!" 

"Monsieur,"  cried  De  Maupeou,  "I  have  just 
escaped  with  my  life.  My  carriage  is,  as  you  see, 
broken ;  it  is  essential  for  me  to  reach  Paris  by  half 
past  eight.  May  I  crave  a  seat  in  your  cabriolet?" 

"Why,  mon  Dieu!  certainly,"  cried  the  other. 
"Step  in,  my  dear  sir,  and  welcome,  thrice  welcome. 
No  man  can  ever  say  that  Jacques  Gaillard  ever  re- 
fused a  hand,  or  a  seat  in  his  carriage,  to  the  dis- 
tressed. 'Tis  a  yellow  carriage — I  would  that  it 
were  some  more  respectable  color,  but  as  it  is  so  let 


374       THE   MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

us  take  it,  just  so,  and,  after  all,  what's  in  color? 
In  a  girl,  yes;  in  a  cabriolet,  no.  Never  mind  the 
color.  Vite,  cocker!  for  my  friend  in  black  has  to 
reach  Paris  by  half  past  seven." 

"Eight,"  said  De  Maupeou,  wondering  at  his  com- 
panion's vease  and  affluence  of  language,  while  the 
cabriolet  started,  leaving  the  coachman  to  do  what 
he  could  with  the  broken  carriage  in  the  roadway. 

"Eight?"  said  Gaillard.  "Well,  it  does  not  much 
matter." 

He  dived  his  hand  beneath  the  seat  and  brought 
out  a  bottle,  proffered  it  to  his  companion,  who  re- 
fused it,  took  a  gulp  himself,  and  returned  it  to  its 
place. 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  said  Gaillard,  as  though  con- 
tinuing a  conversation,  "one  doesn't  get  married 
every  day ;  that  is  to  say,  one  doesn't  make  a  fool  of 
oneself  every  day.  You  understand  me  perfectly?" 

"Ah!"  said  De  Maupeou,  perceiving  in  a  flash 
that  his  companion  was  not  only  drunk  but  very 
drunk.  "Monsieur  then  has  been  married  to-day?" 

"Ma  foi,  yes,"  replied  Gaillard,  making  another 
dive  at  the  bottle  as  if  for  comfort. 

"And  where,  may  I  ask,  is  madame?"  inquired 
the  incautious  De  Maupeou. 

"Madame?"  said  Gaillard,  corking  the  bottle  and 


A    BOTTLE    AND    A    BRIDE         375 

replacing  it.  "Madame?"  Then,  as  though  the 
question  had  suddenly  reached  his  understanding, 
"Mon  Dieu!  where  is  she?"  He  glanced  around 
him  as  if  looking  for  the  absent  one;  then  he  began 
shouting  to  the  coachman  to  stop. 

The  vehicle  drew  up. 

"Madame?"  cried  the  coachman.  "How  can  I 
say?  I  picked  you  up  at  the  Couronne,  you  and 
your  bottle.  You  have  lost  her?  Well,  that  is  not 
my  fault." 

Gaillard,  to  the  alarm  of  De  Maupeou,  instead  of 
replying  to  this,  struggled  out  of  the  cabriolet  and 
stood  looking  about  him,  up  and  down  the  road  and 
across  the  fields,  as  if  in  search  of  his  missing 
partner. 

"She's  gone,"  said  he,  "but  the  question  remains, 
where  did  I  leave  her  ?  We  must  return ;  that  is  the 
only  thing  to  be  done,  decidedly." 

De  Maupeou,  who  had  clambered  out  and  was 
standing  on  the  road  beside  this  desirable  husband, 
held  up  a  piece  of  gold  to  the  coachman,  unobserved 
by  his  companion. 

"And  what  about  this  gentleman  who  wishes  to 
go  to  Paris?"  asked  the  coachman. 

"He  can  come  back  and  have  a  drink  at  the 
Couronne,"  replied  Gaillard.  "Then  when  I  have 


376        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

found  my  wife  we  can  all  go  to  Paris  and  have  a 
pleasant  evening." 

"Monsieur,"  cried  De  Maupeou,  "what  you  say  is 
impossible.  It  is  imperative  that  I  should  reach 
Paris  by  half  past  eight." 

He  was  furious  now,  not  only  at  the  delay,  but  at 
his  own  position :  the  vice-chancellor  of  France 
arguing  with  a  drunken  stranger  on  the  highroad; 
a  nice  affair,  truly,  should  it  come  to  the  ears  of  the 
court 

"Ah!"  said  Gaillard,  his  fuddled  wits  seeming  to 
clear.  "I  see  it  all  now!  You  are  both  of  you  in 
league  against  me.  How  do  I  know  you  haven't 
stolen  my  wife,  got  her  away  from  me,  and  now  you 
are  taking  me  to  Paris  ?" 

The  coachman,  at  this,  got  down  from  his  seat, 
furious  at  the  implication,  and  a  battle  royal  of 
tongues  ensued,  while  the  unfortunate  De  Maupeou, 
watch  in  hand,  stood  by  like  the  timekeeper  of  a 
boxing  bout,  trying  to  make  peace  and  failing. 

They  had  lost  ten  minutes  already,  and  the  vice- 
chancellor  was  in  despair  when,  from  the  direction 
of  Versailles,  he  saw  a  vehicle  approaching.  It  was 
the  Paris  diligence. 

"Ah!"  said  he.  "Here  is  the  diligence.  I  will 
take  it." 


A    BOTTLE    AND    A    BRIDE         377 

The  words  acted  like  a  charm.  The  coachman 
climbed  to  his  seat  again  and  Gaillard,  seeming  to 
forget  his  wife,  took  De  Maupeou  by  the  arm. 

"Get  in,  Monsieur,"  said  he.  "I  have  lost  my 
wife.  No  matter.  I  will  find  her  again,  and  we  can 
have  a  drink  at  Paris.  Wives  are  easily  found. 
Besides,  she  may  have  gone  on  to  her  mother,  who 
lives  in  the  Rue  de  Bondy;  and  I  have  a  bottle  in 
the  cabriolet." 

De  Maupeou  hesitated  between  the  choice  of 
Gaillard,  who  was  undesirable,  and  the  diligence, 
which  was  no  vehicle  for  the  first  magistrate  of 
France  to  be  found  in.  He  chose  Gaillard,  stepped 
into  the  cabriolet,  and  was  lost. 

For  several  miles  they  proceeded  at  a  rapid  pace, 
and  Gaillard,  forgetting  his  wife,  forgetting  his 
grievances,  forgetting  everything  but  conviviality, 
applied  himself  to  the  bottle  and  under  its  charms 
sang  songs  of  a  free  and  volatile  nature,  and  pres- 
ently, losing  interest  in  music,  fell  asleep. 

The  horse,  as  though  in  sympathy  with  the 
wearied  reveler,  slackened  its  pace,  and  the  Paris 
diligence,  which  had  been  following  them  and  tak- 
ing their  dust,  passed  them  with  a  tinkling  of  bells 
and  a  cry  of  derision  from  the  driver. 

De  Maupeou  looked  at  his  watch.     It  was  after 


378        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

eight.  He  shouted  to  the  driver  to  hasten  his  speed, 
and  that  individual  replied  through  the  dusk  that 
was  now  gathering,  and  whipped  up  his  horse. 

The  speed  increased  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and 
then  slackened  again,  despite  the  apparent  efforts 
of  the  driver,  so  that  when  the  toll-gate  was  reached 
and  De  Maupeou  looked  at  his  watch  he  found  that 
it  pointed  to  twenty  minutes  past  eight. 

The  vehicle  stopped  at  the  toll-gate,  and  the  ser- 
geant on  duty  came  to  the  window  with  a  lantern. 
The  lantern  was  for  the  examination  of  the  interior 
of  the  cabriolet,  for  it  was  not  yet  dark  and  De 
Maupeou  could  see  the  sergeant's  face  clearly  in 
the  dusk. 

Gaillard,  who  had  suddenly  wakened  from  his 
sleep,  put  his  hand  under  the  seat  for  his  bottle,  and 
pulled  out  instead  a  dead  fowl,  which  he  hastily 
stuffed  back. 

But  the  sergeant  had  seen  him. 

In  a  moment  De  Maupeou  and  his  companion 
were  hauled  from  the  coach  and  the  sergeant,  diving 
under  the  seat,  gave  a  cry  like  the  cry  of  a  hound. 

The  compartment  beneath  the  seat  was  stuffed 
with  contraband ! 

It  seemed  to  the  luckless  vice-chancellor  that  he 


A   BOTTLE   AND    A    BRIDE         379 

was  in  the  midst  of  a  nightmare;  dumb  at  his  abom- 
inable position  and  not  daring  to  give  his  name  be- 
fore all  the  guards  and  those  loafers  who  hung 
around  the  toll-gates  of  Paris,  he  let  himself  be  led 
into  the  guard-room,  which  was  fortunately  empty, 
and  where  he  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  beside 
Gaillard,  whose  drunkenness  had  again  descended  on 
him  like  a  veil,  and  who  now,  relieved  from  the 
clutches  of  the  soldiers,  sank  into  a  condition  of 
complete  oblivion,  despite  the  fact  that  while  being 
led  past  the  sergeant  he  had  in  a  perfectly  wide- 
awake manner  contrived  to  slip  into  the  hands  of 
the  latter  a  piece  of  paper  containing  a  short  paper 
signed  "Rappelier." 

De  Maupeou,  unable  for  a  moment  to  think  or 
form  a  plan,  looked  at  his  watch.  It  pointed  to  half 
past  eight. 

The  sergeant  and  the  soldiery  did  not  know  him 
by  sight ;  these  men  of  the  guard-houses  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  law-courts  or  the  palaces,  and  the 
paper  of  Rappelier  disclosed  nothing,  containing 
only  a  direction  that  neither  Gaillard  nor  his  com- 
panion were  smugglers,  but  that  they  were  to  be  held 
in  custody  till  ten  o'clock  and  then  discharged,  and 
the  whole  affair  reported  to  Monsieur  de  Sartines. 


380       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

Gaillard,  let  us  say  at  once,  was  Monsieur  Mar- 
montel,  that  plain-clothes  agent  of  the  palace-police 
whose  humor  and  resource  in  the  case  of  the  mys- 
terious Mademoiselle  M.  form  such  an  amusing 
chapter  in  the  memoirs  of  Monsieur  de  Condamine. 


CHAPTER   V 

HATS  AND   COMPLIMENTS 

WHILE  De  Sartines  was  getting  into  his  car- 
riage at  Versailles  and  De  Maupeou  was 
preparing  to  take  leave  of  the  king  and  the  Com- 
tesse  du  Barry,  Madame  Linden,  standing  in  the 
drawing-room  of  Number  12  Rue  Coq  Heron,  was 
putting  the  last  touch  to  her  preparations  for  the 
evening. 

This  drawing-room,  which  opened  out  of  the 
boudoir,  was  a  large  apartment  hung  with  yellow 
silk  curtains  and  a  tapestry  representing  the  doings 
of  Samson.  The  tapestry,  which  had  belonged  to  a 
country  house  of  Monsieur  Gorges,  the  landlord, 
was  a  bit  too  big  for  the  drawing-room  of  Number 
12  Rue  Coq  Heron;  a  scene  had  to  be  cut  out  to 
make  it  fit,  and  the  scene  chosen  by  Monsieur 
Gorges  for  excision,  chiefly  on  account  of  its  ex- 
treme freedom  of  treatment,  was  the  scene  depict- 
ing the  doings  of  the  strong  man  with  Delilah,  or 
rather,  one  should  say,  her  doings  with  him. 


382        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

"Everything  is  packed,  Rosine?"  asked  madame 
as  she  contemplated  the  room  with  satisfaction. 

"Everything,  Madame." 

"Monsieur  Behrens  will  be  here  at  eight  with  my 
dresses  and  hats;  the  dresses  will  remain  down- 
stairs ready  to  be  taken  to  the  carriage,  but  the  boxes 
containing  the  hats  must  be  brought  up  here.  I 
wish  to  examine  them.  Show  Monsieur  Behrens  up 
here  when  he  comes." 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  murmured  the  baroness.  "How 
shall  I  ever  find  room  for  all  those  hat-boxes  in  the 
carriage  ?  They  will  have  to  go  inside.  The  rest  of 
the  luggage  can  go  on  top." 

"Yes,  Madame." 

"That  will  do,  then." 

Rosine  left  the  room,  and  Madame  Linden  sat 
down  on  a  sofa,  folded  her  hands,  and  fell  into 
meditation.  Directly  De  Sartines  arrived  she  would 
require  him  to  order  the  release  of  the  comte,  des- 
patch a  messenger  to  the  Bastile  and  have  him 
brought  directly  to  the  Rue  Coq  Heron.  After  that 
she  would  use  Monsieur  de  Sartines  as  he  had  used 
her,  and  worse;  she  would  play  with  him  as  a  cat 
plays  with  a  mouse;  she  would  bring  him  to  the 


HATS    AND   COMPLIMENTS         383 

edge  of  that  bottomless  pit,  De  Maupeou,  and  let 
him  look  in ;  then  she  would  let  him  go — perhaps. 

She  was  not  sure  of  herself  yet,  or  whether  the 
man's  ruin  or  abasement  would  please  her  most. 
While  thinking  these  thoughts  a  chilly  idea  suddenly 
crossed  her  mind. 

Was  it  possible  for  De  Sartines  to  order  the  re- 
lease of  De  Lussac?  Had  an  order  of  release,  like 
an  order  of  imprisonment,  to  be  signed  by  the  king? 

If  this  were  so,  the  harmony  of  her  plan  would  be 
spoiled ;  she  would  have  to  wait  till  the  morrow  for 
the  comte's  release. 

She  was  considering  this  point  when  the  sound  of 
the  bell  below  made  her  start.  She  listened.  Steps 
sounded  on  the  stairs,  and,  leaving  the  drawing- 
room,  she  entered  the  boudoir. 

Scarcely  had  she  done  so  when  the  door  of  the 
boudoir  opened  and  she  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  De  Lussac. 

De  Lussac,  when  he  left  the  house  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau,  found  that  the  evening  was  much 
lighter  than  he  expected.  Rousseau's  house  with 
its  narrow  dusty  windows  and  atmosphere  of  age 
and  gloom  was  almost  in  darkness,  but  the  Rue 
Plastriere  was  fully  lighted.  With  a  few  francs, 


384       THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

which  he  had  borrowed  from  the  philosopher,  he 
hired  a  passing  cabriolet  which  set  him  down  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  Peysette. 

He  had  now  no  fear  of  compromising  the  woman 
he  loved  by  going  to  her  house,  knowing  as  he  did 
the  weapon  she  held  against  his  enemies. 

For  a  second  they  stood,  he  at  the  door,  she  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  as  if  doubting  each  other's 
existence ;  the  next,  she  was  in  his  arms. 

"You  are  free!" 

"I  am  free,  mordieu;  yes,  I  am  free."  He  led 
her  to  a  couch.  "Free,  unless  they  catch  me  again. 
They  arrested  me  when  I  left  your  house  yesterday, 
and  I  broke  out  of  the  Bastile  to-day  disguised  as 
my  kinsman,  De  Richelieu.  But  before  I  tell  of  my- 
self, tell  me  of  what  you  have  done.  Ah,  I  know ! 
I  have  heard  of  your  devotion,  but  tell  me  of  it  with 
your  own  lips.  You  have  the  document  ?" 

She  laughed.  "Yes,  and  a  frightful  price  I  had 
to  pay  for  it." 

"You—" 

"I  had  to  kiss  Monsieur  de  Richelieu." 

"You  are  forgiven,"  laughed  De  Lussac. 

"I  let  him  embrace  me." 

"You  are  forgiven." 

"I  promised  him — " 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         385 

"What?" 

"Never  mind." 

"But  tell  me—" 

"Tell  me  first,  my  friend,  your  adventures;  mine 
are  the  adventures  of  a  woman  whose  only  weapons 
were  a  kiss  and  a  promise,  scarcely  worth  recount- 
ing. Tell  me." 

He  told  her  briefly  but  graphically;  told  her  of  the 
prison  he  had  escaped  from  and  its  horrors;  of  De 
Richelieu,  whom  he  had  left  half  strangled  on  the 
bed;  of  Beauregard,  whom  he  had  left  half  dead  in 
the  wood-yard;  of  the  agent  of  police  whom  he  had 
felled,  the  carriage  he  had  stolen,  and  of  Rousseau, 
with  whom  he  had  sought  shelter. 

Like  Rousseau,  as  she  listened  she  could  scarcely 
believe  that  the  elegant  De  Lussac,  this  poet  and 
dreamer,  was  the  man  who  had  done  these  things. 

"So,"  said  she  when  he  had  finished,  "you  are 
still  pursued  ?" 

De  Lussac  laughed.  "By  my  faith,  yes.  Not  that 
I  care  now  that,  thanks  to  you,  we  have  De  Sartines 
in  our  power." 

"My  friend,"  said  she,  "till  the  game  is  finished 
one  never  knows  the  ending.  Should  De  Sartines 
free  himself  by  some  master-stroke,  you  would  be 
lost  and  in  a  worse  position  than  before,  because 


386        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

your  treatment  of  the  Due  de  Richelieu  would  be 
held  against  you;  and  should  Monsieur  Beauregard 
die,  which  God  forbid,  they  would  perhaps  exact 
your  life  as  payment  for  his. 

"Attend  to  me.  When  I  start  for  Vienna  to-night 
you  must  accompany  me  on  the  box-seat  of  my  car- 
riage. Monsieur  Gorges,  my  landlord,  from  whom 
I  rented  this  house,  has  left  in  the  lumber  room, 
among  other  things,  some  clothes  that  belonged  to 
his  lackeys.  Rosine  will  show  you  the  room.  Dis- 
guise yourself,  then  go  to  Vaudrin,  the  livery-stable 
keeper  in  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  ask  to  see  the  travel- 
ing-carriage that  is  to  call  for  me  here  at  ten  o'clock  ; 
examine  it  as  a  good  servant  should;  test  the 
springs;  see  that  the  axles  are  faultless;  and  when 
the  hour  comes,  arrive,  on  the  box.  My  poor  Ar- 
mand,  you  must  be  content  to  be  my  servant  till  we 
arrive  at  Vienna." 

"I  shall  be  your  servant  till  I  die." 

"Yes,  but  not  my  lackey — " 

As  she  spoke  the  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  eight. 
She  rang  the  bell  for  Rosine. 

"Now  you  must  go,  and  we  shall  not  meet  again 
till  you  open  the  carriage  door  for  me  at  ten  o'clock. 
There  is  Rosine ;  go,  my  friend,  for  I  am  expecting 
Monsieur  de  Sartines." 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         387 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines?" 

"Yes,  and  Monsieur  de  Maupeou,  and  Madame 
de  Stenlis,  and  several  other  brilliant  people  who  are 
much  dimmer  since  I  have  had  to  deal  with  them. 
Till  ten  o'clock,  then." 

De  Lussac  kissed  her  hand. 

What  plan  she  was  about  to  execute  he  did  not 
know,  but  he  felt  vaguely  uneasy,  knowing  as  he 
did  her  spirit,  her  hatred  of  the  minister  of  police, 
and  the  latter's  power  and  capacity  for  trickery. 

He  left  the  room,  following  Rosine,  and  Madame 
Linden,  passing  into  the  drawing-room,  sat  down  to 
await  events. 

Around  her  neck,  beneath  her  dress,  she  was 
wearing  the  diamond  necklace  for  which  she  had 
paid  Boehmer  that  afternoon.  She  had  also  paid 
Behrens  for  the  hats  and  gowns  which  were  due 
now  to  arrive;  everything  had  been  paid  for,  and 
all  her  plans  were  complete  for  immediate  depar- 
ture, and  as  she  sat  glancing  round  her  at  the  room 
which  she  was  so  soon  to  leave,  and  which  she  would 
never  see  again,  she  reviewed  Paris  and  its  people. 
Their  falsity,  and  trickery,  and  coldness,  and  abso- 
lute want  of  heart;  the  polished  vileness  of  the 
court,  the  brutal  misery  of  the  common  people,  the 
gilding  of  the  salons  and  the  filth  of  the  streets  all 


388        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

rose  up  before  her,  visualized  themselves,  voiced 
themselves. 

She  felt  as  though  she  were  escaping  from  Ge- 
henna, and  a  momentary  impulse  came  on  her  to 
send  at  once  for  her  traveling-carriage  and,  leaving 
De  Sartines  unscathed  and  her  dresses  to  look  after 
themselves,  start  at  once  and  put  the  protecting 
frontier  between  herself  and  these  people  whom  she 
hated.  She  had  scarcely  dismissed  this  impulse 
when  Rosine  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Madame,  Monsieur  Behrens  has  arrived." 

"Show  him  up,"  replied  Madame  la  Baronne, 
"and  have  my  hats  brought  here." 

Rosine  vanished. 

Madame  Linden  looked  at  the  clock.  It  pointed 
to  fifteen  minutes  past  eight.  The  guests  were  late, 
but  lateness  was  a  fashionable  vice,  and  she  felt  no 
fear  of  their  non-arrival,  though  slightly  disturbed 
by  this  want  of  punctuality  in  De  Sartines. 

A  moment  later  Behrens,  following  Rosine 
through  the  boudoir,  entered,  bowing. 

Rosine  carried  three  hat-boxes  one  on  top  of  the 
other,  and  after  Behrens  came  his  assistant  carrying 
three  more. 

The  boxes  were  chocolate-colored  and  powdered 
with  golden  bees. 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         389 

"Madame,"  said  Behrens,  bowing  again,  as  Ros- 
ine  and  the  assistant,  having  deposited  their  burdens 
on  the  floor,  left  the  room,  "my  compliments." 

"And  my  hats,  it  seems,"  replied  she  with  a  faint 
tinge  of  mockery  in  the  bow  which  she  returned 
him.  "Ma  foi,  Monsieur  Behrens,  your  boxes  are 
so  beautiful  that  one  might  wear  them  for  hats." 

"They  are  of  my  own  design,  Madame,"  replied 
the  delighted  Behrens. 

"Your  own  design?  Why,  Monsieur  Behrens,  it 
seems  to  me  that  had  you  but  devoted  yourself  to 
canvas  instead  of  chiffon  you  might  have  been 
Monsieur  Boucher  or  Monsieur  Fragonard." 

"Oh,  Madame !"  cried  Behrens,  on  whom  flattery 
acted  as  a  powerful  light,  making  him  blind  to  ridi- 
cule. "Monsieur  Fragonard!  Where  would  he  be 
without  my  creations?  And  Monsieur  Boucher, 
who  dresses  the  shepherdesses  he  copies  ?  I,  I  alone. 
And  do  I  copy?  No,  Madame,  I  create." 

At  this  moment  Rosine  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Madame  de  Stenlis." 

Madame  de  Stenlis,  wonderful  in  a  robe  of  laven- 
der and  all  her  diamonds,  entered,  bowed  to  Ma- 
dame Linden  and  then  to  Behrens. 

"I  thought  I  was  early,"  said  Madame  de  Stenlis, 
"but  I  find  Monsieur  Behrens  is  before  me." 


390        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

"On  the  contrary,  Madame,"  replied  the  baroness, 
"you  are  late,  and  Monsieur  Behrens,  I  am  sure, 
stands  behind  you  as  a  very  faithful  tradesman,  not 
as  a  guest.  Come,  Madame,  you  are  the  first  critic  in 
Paris.  I  leave  for  Vienna  in  two  hours'  time,  and  I 
am  taking  with  me  some  creations  of  Monsieur 
Behrens'  which  you  may  like  to  give  your  opinion 
upon.  Monsieur  Behrens!" 

"Madame?" 

"Let  us  see  what  those  boxes  contain." 

Behrens,  pressing  his  forefinger  on  his  lips,  stood 
for  a  moment  contemplating  the  boxes,  then  making 
up  his  mind  which  of  them  he  should  open  first,  he 
produced  a  hat  of  lavender  with  white  ostrich 
feather  plumes. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  it  and  shaking 
his  head. 

"In  this  light,  Madame,  this  hat  is  almost  impos- 
sible ;  however,  to  get  the  effect  of  contour — "  He 
handed  it  to  her,  and  she  put  it  on. 

"Tilted  slightly  more  to  the  left,  Madame." 

"So  ?"  asked  the  baroness. 

"Perfectly,"  replied  the  hat-artist,  "and  with  the 
mouth  closed,  please.  It  is  not  a  hat  of  conversa- 
tion, but  designed  for  occasions  of  formality  when 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         391 

the  wearer  is  isolated,  as  when  driving  alone. 
Madame  de  Stenlis  will  perhaps  give  her  opinion  ?" 

But  before  Madame  de  Stenlis  could  speak,  Ros- 
ine  appeared  at  the  doorway. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines." 

De  Sartines  had  been  delayed  by  an  agent  who 
had  stopped  his  carriage  at  the  gates  of  Paris  and 
given  him  the  news  of  De  Lussac's  escape  from  the 
Bastile,  the  loss  of  the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the 
Midi,  and  the  fact  that  Beauregard  had  been  all  but 
slain  in  a  duel  with  De  Lussac. 

The  news  was  a  terrible  blow  to  De  Sartines. 
With  the  loss  of  the  papers  of  the  Society  of  the 
Midi  he  had  now  no  hold  on  Madame  Linden,  and 
scarcely  any  on  De  Lussac.  He  came  to  the  house 
in  the  Rue  Coq  Heron  without  arms,  knowing  his 
antagonist  was  triply  armed,  but  without  the  least 
knowledge  of  how  she  was  going  to  use  her  power. 

He  entered  the  arena  and  found  her  engaged  in 
trying  on  a  hat ! 

"Ah!"  cried  Madame  de  Stenlis  as  De  Sartines 
bowed  to  his  hostess,  "here  is  a  better  criticism  than 
mine.  De  Sartines,  your  opinion  on  the  confection 
of  Monsieur  Behrens." 

Before  De  Sartines  could  reply,  a  silvery  laugh 


392        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

sounded  from  the  doorway.  They  turned;  it  was 
Madame  d'Harlancourt,  who  had  just  entered  the 
room,  and  who  had  broken  into  a  laugh  before 
Rosine  could  announce  her. 

"Ma  foi,  Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  cried  the  com- 
tesse,  •  almost  ignoring  her  hostess,  "you  have 
changed  your  trade  then?" 

"How  so,  Madame?" 

"From  buying  consciences  to  selling  bonnets." 
She  glanced  around  at  three  hats  which  Behrens 
had  taken  from  their  boxes  and  deposited,  one  on 
the  table,  one  on  a  settee,  and  one  on  a  chair,  all 
waiting  to  be  tried  on.  "Or  are  they  for  exhibi- 
tion?" 

"Exhibition,"  cut  in  Madame  de  Stenlis.  "Here 
is  one,  and  it  asks  your  criticism."  She  indicated 
the  baroness,  who,  beautiful  and  statuesque,  the 
highest  compliment  to  Behrens'  art,  stood  almost 
heedless  of  what  they  were  saying,  her  whole  mind 
engaged  in  watching  De  Sartines  and  the  deep 
anxiety  evident  in  his  face  and  manner. 

"Madame,"  said  Madame  d'Harlancourt,  turning 
to  the  baroness  and  bowing,  "my  compliments." 

"And  your  criticism,  Madame,"  replied  the  other. 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,"  said  Madame  d'Harlan- 
court, "your  criticism  first." 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         393 

"It  leaves  me  dumb,"  said  De  Sartines,  looking  at 
the  hat. 

"It  has  that  effect,  Monsieur;  it  has  that  effect," 
put  in  the  delighted  Behrens,  walking  round  the 
baroness  so  as  to  view  her  from  all  sides.  "Dumb ! 
yes,  it  has  that  effect." 

"Then  I  shall  always  wear  it  in  the  presence  of 
fools,"  laughed  she.  "Well,  Madame  d'Harlan- 
court,  now  that  Monsieur  de  Sartines  has  given  his 
opinion,  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"Nothing,  Madame." 

"Monsieur  Behrens." 

"Madame?" 

"You  were  right." 

"In  what  way,  Madame  ?" 

"It  renders  them  dumb." 

De  Sartines,  sure  that  all  this  was  a  prelude  to 
tragedy  and  feeling  as  a  man  might  feel  who  is 
being  murdered  amid  millinery,  drew  close  to  the 
beautiful  and  poisonous-tongued  creature  who  was 
now  gazing  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  murmured, 
"A  truce." 

She  turned  from  him  without  a  word  to  Behrens, 
who  was  offering  another  hat  for  inspection ;  before 
she  could  take  it,  however,  Rosine's  voice  came 
from  the  doorway :  "Monsieur  de  Joyeuse." 


394        THE    MINISTER   OF   POLICE 

"Rosine,"  said  the  baroness  as  she  bowed  to  the 
new-comer,  "has  Placide  arrived  yet  from  that  busi- 
ness on  which  I  sent  him  ?" 

"Not  yet,  Madame." 

"Well,  inform  me  when  he  does.  Monsieur  de 
Joyeuse,  I  am  trying  on  a  hat.  Your  criticism  on  it, 
please?" 

"Madame,"  said  De  Joyeuse  gravely,  "it  could  not 
rest  there." 

"And  why,  Monsieur?" 

"It  would  be  so  anxious  to  get  at  your  face." 

"Behrens,"  said  madame,  removing  the  structure 
from  her  head. 

"Madame?" 

"My  hat  has  lost  its  magic;  it  no  longer  makes 
them  dumb." 

She  glanced  at  the  clock  as  she  spoke;  it  pointed 
to  a  quarter  to  nine.  The  others,  who  felt  sure  that 
something  was  going  forward  behind  the  scenes, 
that  some  mystery  lay  behind  this  foolery,  stood  by 
watching  De  Sartines  and  the  woman  who  was  play- 
ing this  curious  game. 

She  was  standing  opposite  to  Behrens,  who  was 
holding  now  in  his  right  hand  a  plumed  and  funereal 
structure,  a  nocturne,  to  use  his  own  expression,  in 
his  left  hand  a  delicate  creation  in  pearl-gray. 


HATS    AND    COMPLIMENTS         395 

She  seemed  undecided  as  to  which  she  should  try 
on,  nor  had  she  made  up  her  mind  when,  like  a 
thunderclap  to  De  Sartines,  came  the  announcement 
from  the  doorway :  "Monsieur  de  Maupeou." 


CHAPTER   VI 

COMEDY  OR  TRAGEDY? 

THE  vice-chancellor,  seated  in  the  guard-room 
of  the  toll-gate  beside  the  sleeping  Gaillard, 
had  been  released  by  a  miracle.  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
trellis,  the  captain  of  the  guards,  making  a  tour  of 
the  toll-gates  of  Paris  that  evening  and  going  into 
the  guard-room  to  sign  his  report,  had  instantly 
recognized  and  released  him.  Furious,  like  a  hawk 
held  from  his  prey  and  suddenly  set  free ;  sure,  now, 
from  the  trick  that  had  been  played  him  that  the 
game  was  desperate  and  that  to  seize  the  man  he 
hated  and  break  him  he  had  only  to  close  his  hand, 
De  Maupeou  commandeered  not  only  the  carriage  of 
Captain  Beautrellis,  but  the  services  of  the  captain 
himself. 

Grim,  yellow,  commanding  himself  to  appear 
calm,  the  vice-chancellor  bowed  to  Madame  la 
Baronne  and  to  the  guests. 

Then  he  turned  slightly,  disclosing  a  form  behind 
him. 

396 


COMEDY    OR    TRAGEDY?  397 

"Madame,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  a 
friend  with  me,"  said  De  Maupeou.  "Monsieur  de 
Beautrellis  of  the  Guards,  Madame  la  Baronne 
Linden." 

Beautrellis,  a  magnificent  man  of  the  type  of 
Monsieur  Beauregard,  looked  around  him,  saw  De 
Sartines  and  bowed. 

He  did  not  know  in  the  least  what  was  going  to 
happen.  De  Maupeou  had  told  him  something  about 
a  conspiracy.  If  so,  where  were  the  conspirators? 
— for  all  these  people  were  of  the  court.  He  saw 
Madame  de  Stenlis,  and  bowed ;  he  had  danced  with 
her  only  two  nights  ago.  What  in  the  name  of 
wonder  was  she  doing  here  ?  He  bowed  to  Madame 
d'Harlancourt,  nodded  to  De  Joyeuse,  and  then 
turned  his  eyes  to  his  hostess. 

"Rosine,"  said  the  baroness  to  the  maid,  who  had 
not  yet  left  the  room,  "has  Placide  returned  yet?" 

"No,  Madame." 

The  baroness  glanced  at  the  clock;  it  was  after 
nine.  De  Maupeou  noticed  her  anxiety  and  guessed 
that  Placide — whoever  he  might  be — was  a  main- 
spring in  her  design.  He  forced  himself  to  be  pa- 
tient, and  drawing  up  to  Madame  de  Stenlis  began 
to  talk  on  indifferent  topics,  while  Madame  Linden 
turned  her  attention  again  to  Behre'ns,  speaking  also 


398        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

to  Monsieur  de  Beautrellis  and  Monsieur  de  Sar- 
tines,  who  were  standing  near  by. 

"Gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  the  presence  of  so 
many  hats,  but  a  comedy  ill-dressed  is  a  comedy  ill- 
acted.  Monsieur  de  Maupeou,"  raising  her  voice, 
"are  you  a  judge  of  hats?" 

"No,  Madame,"  replied  De  Maupeou,  breaking 
off  his  conversation  with  Madame  de  Stenlis.  "My 
business  in  life  is  to  judge  men." 

"Your  business  is  a  tragedy,  not  a  comedy,  then. 
Well,  at  all  events,  you  can  give  an  opinion  of  an 
actress's  qualification  for  the  tragic  role.  I  told 
you  this  morning  I  was  about  to  stage  a  little  play 
of  mine,  and  upon  my  heart,  Monsieur  de  Maupeou, 
I  have  not  yet  fixed  in  my  mind  whether  it  will  have 
a  comic  or  a  tragic  ending.  That  sounds  as  though 
I  were  an  indifferent  playwright.  I  am,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  nowadays  it  is  the  indifferent  play- 
wrights who  please.  They  study  their  public,  not 
their  art.  So  do  I.  Monsieur  de  Beautrellis,  what 
would  you  advise  as  an  ending  for  my  little  play, 
comedy  or  tragedy?" 

"Oh,  ma  foi!"  cried  the  simple-minded  Beautrel- 
lis, "I  prefer  to  laugh.  Comedy,  Madame,  by  all 
means.  One  leaves  the  theater  with  a  better  taste  in 
the  mouth  and  able  to  eat  one's  supper." 


COMEDY    OR    TRAGEDY?  399 

"Monsieur  de  Sartines,  what  do  you  say?" 

"Madame,"  said  De  Sartines,  who  began  to  see  a 
gleam  of  light,  "in  my  mind  Monsieur  de  Beautrellis 
is  right." 

He  bowed  profoundly. 

"Madame  de  Stenlis?    Madame  d'Harlancourt?" 

"Tragedy !"  cried  the  two  women,  laughing. 

The  baroness,  ignoring  De  Maupeou  and  De  Joy- 
euse,  turned  to  Behrens. 

"Monsieur  Behrens,  you  who  dress  the  actresses 
of  the  Comedie  Franqaise,  give  me  your  opinion. 
Could  I  act  tragedy  under  that  hat  of  pearl-gray 
\vhich  you  are  holding  for  me  to  try  on?" 

"If  madame  is  desirous  of  ruining  the  effect  of 
the  hat  and  the  play,  why,  yes,"  replied  Behrens. 
Then,  bursting  out:  "Heavens,  Madame!  no,  a 
thousand  times  no!  But  if  madame  requires  for  her 
play  a  hat  of  tragedy — why,  here  is  tragedy  itself." 
He  held  up  the  black  hat  on  the  point  of  his  finger, 
and  as  he  did  so  a  knock  came  to  the  door.  It 
opened,  disclosing  Placide. 

"Ah,  Placide,"  said  the  baroness.  "So  you  have 
returned.  Have  you  got  what  I  sent  you  for  ?" 

"Yes,  Madame,"  replied  Placide,  producing  a 
paper. 

"Good,"  said  the  baroness,  putting  on  the  gray 


400        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

hat.  "Monsieur  Behrens,  put  tragedy  away,  pack 
it  with  the  others.  I  will  travel  in  this.  Monsieur 
de  Sartines,  the  play  of  which  I  spoke  to  you  this 
morning  shall  have  a  happy  ending.  I  retain  the 
manuscript,  however.  Placide,  bring  me  that  par- 
cel." 

But,  before  Placide  could  move,  De  Maupeou, 
who  had  been  whispering  to  Monsieur  de  Beau- 
trellis,  took  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and  presented 
it  to  the  baroness.  Monsieur  de  Beautrellis  took  up 
his  position  by  the  door,  and  the  vice-chancellor, 
calmly  walking  up  to  Placide,  took  the  paper  from 
his  hand. 

Madame  Linden  glanced  at  the  paper  that  had 
been  handed  to  her.  De  Sartines,  who  was  by  her 
side,  glanced  at  it  too. 

It  was  the  order  of  the  king. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE  GENIUS  OF  PLACIDE 

THE  whole  thing  had  been  done  with  such 
beautiful  simplicity  and  absence  of  fuss  that 
the  guests  perceived  nothing  of  the  tragedy  at  the 
bottom  of  it. 

The  woman  on  whom  the  tables  had  been  so  com- 
pletely turned  stood  by  the  man  on  whom  she  had 
brought  destruction,  yet  neither  of  them  allowed 
their  emotions  to  be  seen. 

Since  De  Sartines  had  entered  the  room  that  even- 
ing, her  heart  had  begun  to  relent  toward  him.  His 
broken  and  anxious  look  told  her  that  she  had  been 
avenged  for  the  slights  he  had  put  on  her.  De 
Lussac  was  free,  she  was  victorious.  Yet  she  had 
decided  to  complete  her  lesson,  to  keep  him  on 
tenter-hooks  for  a  while  before  releasing  him. 

And  now  the  situation  had  been  swept  out  of  her 
hands.  She  had  called  up  a  devil  and  it  had  ap- 
peared. She  instantly  recognized  that  De  Maupeou 
was  absolutely  master  of  the  situation  and  that  De 

401 


402        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

Sartines  was  lost.  And  not  only  De  Sartines  but 
she  herself  was  lost.  The  document  of  which  De 
Maupeou  was  now  calmly  breaking  the  seals  would 
strike  every  one  who  had  to  do  with  it  as  a  thunder- 
bolt strikes,  and  more  cruelly. 

De  Sartines,  after  a  momentary  impulse  to  draw 
his  sword  and  attack  the  holder  of  the  king's  com- 
mission, conquered  himself  and  stood  unmoved,  in- 
different, as  if  bored. 

De  Maupeou,  breaking  the  last  seal  of  the  paper 
in  his  hand,  flung  the  enveloping  wrapper  on  the 
floor  and,  unfolding  the  paper  it  contained,  glanced 
at  it. 

He  was  a  man  who  possessed  tremendous  com- 
mand over  himself.  The  contents  of  the  paper  in 
his  hand  would  have  caused  another  man  in  his 
position  to  rave  and  storm,  to  expose  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  tricked  and  fooled  to  the  gaping  on- 
lookers who  would  have  made  him  in  twenty-four 
hours  the  laughing-stock  of  Paris. 

De  Maupeou  simply  bent  for  the  wrapper,  in- 
closed the  folded  paper  in  it  and,  advancing  to  the 
baroness,  handed  it  to  her,  at  the  same  time  taking 
the  order  to  the  king,  which  she  still  held. 

"Madame,"  said  De  Maupeou,  "this  paper  is  in- 
teresting as  disclosing  the  state  of  your  mind.  I 


THE   GENIUS    OF    PLACIDE         403 

leave  it  with  you,  and  with  it  I  take  my  leave. 
Monsieur  de  Beautrellis,  may  I  crave  again  the  use 
of  your  carriage?  Adieu,  Madame,  we  shall  per- 
haps meet  again." 

Magnificent  in  his  defeat,  he  bowed  to  his  hostess, 
bowed  to  the  guests,  and  followed  by  Beautrellis, 
left  the  room;  while  the  baroness,  astounded, 
scarcely  crediting  her  senses,  with  the  folded  paper 
in  her  hand  and  wild  to  get  at  the  meaning  of  it  all, 
turned  to  her  guests. 

"Ladies,  I  must  crave  your  permission  for  a  few 
words  alone  with  Monsieur  de  Sartines.  My  serv- 
ants will  offer  you  refreshment  down-stairs.  As 
for  me,  starting,  as  I  am,  for  Vienna  in  less  than 
an  hour's  time,  I  must  here  and  now  take  my  leave 
of  you." 

She  bowed  to  Madame  de  Stenlis  and  Madame 
d'Harlancourt  who,  balked  in  their  curiosity,  sneer- 
ing, yet  not  daring  to  cross  their  tongues  with  this 
woman  whom  they  instinctively  feared,  bowed  low, 
and  followed  by  De  Joyeuse  gracefully  vanished 
from  the  room.  Their  laughter  could  be  heard  on 
the  stairs,  a  safe  form  of  repartee,  and  in  a  moment 
the  wheels  of  their  departing  carriages  came  from 
the  street  outside ;  they  had  not  waited  for  refresh- 
ments. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  END  OF  THE   PLAY 

BEHRENS,  who  had  been  engaged  in  cording 
the  last  of  the  boxes,  advanced,  bowed  low  and 
took  his  departure,  Placide  only  remaining. 

"And  now,"  said  the  baroness,  "let  us  see."  She 
opened  the  paper. 

It  was  as  blank  as  the  palm  of  her  hand.  De 
Sartines  took  it  from  her,  glanced  at  it  and  laid  it 
down.  He  turned  to  Placide,  but  the  baroness  was 
before  him. 

"Placide,"  cried  his  mistress,  "what  trick  is  this  ? 
What  has  been  done  to  the  paper  that  I  left  in  the 
Rue  Plastriere?  Answer!  Don't  stand  there  like 
a  fool!" 

"Oh,  Madame,"  said  the  old  fellow  in  a  grum- 
bling voice,  "a  story  that  is  half  a  story  is  no  story. 
You  wish  to  know  everything.  Well,  then,  you 
shall.  I  went  to  the  Rue  Plastriere,  as  you  told 
me,  showed  the  ring  as  you  told  me,  received  the 
paper,  took  it  to  a  place  I  know  of,  opened  it  and 

404 


THE   END   OF   THE    PLAY         405 

read  the  document  it  contained,  of  which  I  could 
not  make  head  or  tail." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  cried  the  baroness,  clasping  her 
hands  at  this  astounding  admission. 

"One  moment,  Madame.  Seeing  Monsieur  de 
Sartines'  signature  and  putting  two  and  two  to- 
gether, I  judged  it  better  to  suppress  the  document 
and  inclose  a  plain  piece  of  paper.  A  plain  piece 
of  paper  never  does  any  harm  till  it  is  written  upon." 

"But  the  document,  the  document!"  cried  De 
Sartines.  "What  have  you  done  with  it?  Oh, 
mon  Dieu!  if  you  have — " 

"One  moment,  Monsieur.  Having  resealed  the 
parcel,  I  called  a  cabriolet  and  took  the  document 
to  the  house  of  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Richelieu,  who 
was  the  original  possessor  of  it  and  in  whose  pos- 
session it  now  is.  Monsieur  le  Due  is  in  bed,  very 
much  indisposed." 

"But,  heavens!"  cried  the  baroness,  now  pale  to 
the  lips,  "how  did  you  know  that  the  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu possessed  it?  How — " 

"How,  Madame?  Why,  the  night  it  was  taken 
from  the  due's  house  I  journeyed  to  Paris  with  the 
lady  who  had  taken  it.  I  felt  it  in  her  pocket.  I 
could  have  picked  her  pocket,  but  I  preferred  to  let 
things  develop.  Ma  foi,  Madame,  ever  since  I  have 


406        THE    MINISTER   OF    POLICE 

been  in  your  service,  I  could  have  ruined  you  ten 
times  over.  As  it  is,  I  have  guarded  you  while  look- 
ing after  my  master's  interests ;  given  you  good  ad- 
vice, when  I  could  have  given  you  bad.  I  have 
been  the  mole  of  the  affair,  behind  the  scenes  all 
the  time,  and  I  would  have  brought  it  all  to  a  con- 
clusion long  ago  but  for  that  pig  Gaussin."  Placide 
swept  his  hand  across  his  head  and  his  gray  hair 
vanished;  with  a  handkerchief  he  was  holding  in 
his  left  hand  he  wiped  away  the  wrinkles  of  Placide, 
cast  the  beard  of  Placide  on  the  floor,  slipped  from 
the  overcoat  he  was  wearing  and — De  Sartines 
could  scarcely  believe  his  senses — there  on  the  par- 
quet before  him  was  standing  Lavenne. 

"Lavenne!"  cried  his  master. 

"At  your  service,  Monsieur." 

The  baroness,  almost  fainting  from  the  shock  of 
this  metamorphosis,  stood  holding  the  back  of  a 
chair.  She  understood  the  situation  instantly,  and 
the  fact  that  this  agent  of  police  had  been  part  and 
parcel  of  her  life,  underrunning  the  whole  story  of 
the  last  week  and  saving,  by  a  stroke  of  genius,  the 
man  whom  she  had  in  a  moment  of  anger  brought 
to  the  edge  of  destruction.  She  waved  away  the 
ring  he  was  holding  out  to  her. 

His  devotion,  his  common  sense,  his  consummate 


J 


''  I  would  much  prefer  keeping  you  a  friend  " 


THE    END    OF   THE    PLAY          407 

acting  banished  all  ill-feeling  from  her  mind.  Not 
only  had  he  saved  his  master,  but  he  had  saved  her. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "keep  the  ring,  not  as  the 
gift  of  an  admiring  .woman  to  a  supreme  actor,  but 
as  the  gift  of  a  friend  to  a  friend."  Her  voice 
failed  her  and  her  eyes  were  moist  as  she  turned  to 
the  door. 

Rosine  had  entered  the  room. 

"Madame,"  said  Rosine  at  the  door,  "the  carriage 
has  arrived." 

"One  moment,"  said  her  mistress. 

She  picked  up  the  blank  piece  of  paper  from  the 
floor,  took  it  to  the  bureau  and  wrote  something  on 
it;  folded  it,  and  addressed  it;  then  leaving  it  on 
the  bureau,  she  came  to  De  Sartines  and  held  out 
her  hand. 

"Good-by,  Monsieur  de  Sartines,  unless  you  wish 
to  keep  me  a  prisoner." 

"Madame,"  replied  De  Sartines,  a  world  of  worry 
off  his  mind,  "I  would  much  prefer  keeping  you  a 
friend." 

"Good-by,  Monsieur  Placide.  You  will  find  your 
wages  in  a  little  parcel  in  the  top  left-hand  drawer 
of  my  bureau,  but  you  will  not  find  my  thanks  there, 
for  such  a  little  drawer  would  not  hold  them. 

"Good-by,  Paris."     She  kissed  her  hand  to  the 


408        THE    MINISTER    OF    POLICE 

room  around  her,  turned  with  a  smile  to  the  two 
men,  bowed,  laughed  with  a  laugh  that  had  yet  a 
little  catch  in  it,  and  vanished  like  a  dream. 

Rosine  came  in  and  removed  the  boxes.  They 
heard  the  carriage  starting  and  De  Sartines,  walk- 
ing to  the  bureau,  saw  a  paper  there  with  his  name 
upon  it. 

It  was  the  paper  that  had  fooled  De  Maupeou. 

He  picked  it  up,  opened  it,  and  read :  "Order  of 
release  for  Monsieur  de  Sartines  from  the  worry  of 
a  woman;  once  his  admirer,  but  now  his  friend." 

He  dropped  the  paper.  What  did  she  mean? 
Had  she — had  she — ?  Then  he  remembered  De 
Lussac.  No,  it  was  imoossible.  The  comte  had  al- 
ways been  her  lover. 

He  came  to  the  window,  opened  it  and  stood  look- 
ing out,  watching  the  lights  of  the  lanterns  lining 
the  Rue  Coq  Heron,  and  listening  to  the  noise  of 
the  streets.  It  was  as  though  he  were  looking  for 
something  he  had  lost. 

Then  he  turned  from  the  window. 

"Cordieu!"  said  he.    "What  a  woman!" 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000125567     8 


